


Caged Bird 2

by DandelionSea, JellyFicsnFucks



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Consensual Sex, Depression, Dress Up, Emotional Manipulation, Engraving in bone, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, Incest, Kidnapping, Master/Pet, No one wanted it, Other, Physical/Emotional Abuse, Sans in dresses, Stockholm Syndrome, Suicidal Thoughts, They don't know they are bros, Underfell, Up for grabs. Go make part 3, Work Up For Adoption, feeling worthless, just like me, mentioned maiming blood and gore, plot heavy with sprinkles of smut, self harm to escape, sensual soul healing, so it ended here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-25
Updated: 2018-09-29
Packaged: 2019-01-22 19:28:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 55,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12489152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DandelionSea/pseuds/DandelionSea, https://archiveofourown.org/users/JellyFicsnFucks/pseuds/JellyFicsnFucks
Summary: Part 2 of Caged Bird - Uf!Sans is kidnapped because he sings nice lullabies.





	1. Plan to Escape

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Caged Bird](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8914165) by [Eunoria](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eunoria/pseuds/Eunoria), [SaJellyfish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaJellyfish/pseuds/SaJellyfish), [Victoria_Sandres_0599](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Victoria_Sandres_0599/pseuds/Victoria_Sandres_0599). 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am same writer - Jellyfics, This is the same caged bird continuation.

Sans surveys the room quickly. From the center of the room he scans for the most obvious places to hide something as fragile as a soul and key. Though he knows some monsters stache precious belongings in their mattress he doubts his soul would be safe every night under that crushing weight of the large skeleton bachelor.   
   
He makes his way to the writing desk, pulling out the drawers without a scrap of care for the belongings inside. Papers, pens, stamps, and paper clips spew about the room. Lodging themselves in tiny nooks of the floorboards, preparing themselves for the day when a monster will wake up early one morning to find one poking into the heel of their  foot when they least expect it.   
   
Sans doesn't care. He knows he has a limited time frame here. He pulls open the dresser next, dumping fresh  folded laundry onto the floor and finally hears the clink of metal. He falls to his knees, pushing aside sets of clothes until he locates the golden key.   
   
His hands shake in anticipation. He’d wanted so desperately to claw off this magic dampening collar around his neck and now the key was in his grasp. He stands and runs to a mirror. There is one in the adjacent bathroom that stretches over three walls. Sans heads there, studying his reflection to unlock the hunk of metal from his neck. The first few times it clanks against the metal.  He is still unfamiliar with the opposite reflection and his hands shake for the first time from pure glee and the trepidation of being caught.   
   
The key finally slides in and Sans twists, practically feeling the cool air on his nape when the key kicks back. Stiff. Sans eyes the mirror, turning his head up to get a better look at his neck, only able to see it from the very bottom of his peripheral vision. He turns the key again, but there is no satisfying clink of the tumblers lining up. The key just makes a quiet -tack- of metal hitting an immovable wall.   
   
The wrong key.   
   
Sans grinds his teeth in frustration, throwing the key out the bathroom and across the bedroom. He follows its trajectory, leaving the bathroom with the utmost haste to recover lost time.  He crawls on the floor to check the bed. Stands atop the nightstand on his tiptoes to check the vents. Pulls the closet apart, tossing hanged clothing into crumpled piles of wrinkles.   
   
He returns back to the grandiose bathroom mirror with a collection of all kinds of keys and about 4 dollars worth of useless pocket change. He tries key after key, eyes darting to the closed bedroom door, as if the psychotic kidnapper could walk in at any second and-click-!   
   
…  
   
Click?   
   
Sans feels the shackle fall off his neck, the heavy metal hits the sink and chips the porcelain. His shoulder roll forward in the lack of weight. He reaches to rub at his sore neck, lavishing in the coolness of the air and the raw sensation around his bones. It was welcome. It was more than welcome if it meant he could be free of that restriction.   
   
Sans turns the sink on and bends forward, splashing cool water onto the injury and across his face.  He stares at his own reflection. The sorry excuse of himself that stares back says this is no time for victory. This small relief was only step one to becoming free. He had to get his soul. He had to find a way to leave the manor without raising alarm. He had to find a place to go because if he just slept out on the streets again he’d be kidnapped by another psycho. Or worse… Grillby might find him sleeping in the street. The fire monster was anything but warm. He wouldn’t hesitate to put Sans back to work.  
   
Sans wipes his face down into the cuff of his sleeve and begins to move again. He can’t stay still for long and this room had nothing more to offer unless there was some secret safe hidden in the walls. Honestly Sans had no way of knowing, he hopes the eccentric prick keeps his soul somewhere else and he leaves the room.   
   
Quickly he flees down the hallway, raiding one closed door after another.  The hallways are like a labyrinth inside. The only way for him to familiarize himself with this place is by looking out at the windows and noting the cars in the driveway. The bastard was rich. Not only did he have a mansion, a giant library, access to the latest monster suppressing devices and an army of maids at his beck and call…. But he had a greenhouse full of cars. Antiques and impractical cars that were buffed and polished so often that they could create a glare bright enough to rival the sun.   
   
But there are two cars that stand out from the rest. A black limousine, which Sans assumes is how the other traveled in style every day… and a black Rolls-Royce Corniche that with all its windows rolled down.   
   
Sans can’t help but be drawn to the window. He puts both hands on the sill and peers out into the driveway, trying to deny what he already knew was true. He could still fool himself. He ducks his head desperately to get around the glass in front of him, trying to get a peek at the license plate or at the dashboard he knew was littered in bullet hole wedges.   
   
Grillby’s car.   
   
Time was a lot shorter than he thought.   
   
Sans backs away from the window. He had to get his soul. He had to escape here before either psychopath knew he was here he had to- OOOF!!!!  
   
He collides head first with a woman in the hallway.  He picks himself up before she does, eyes the lady as one of the maids who he’d seen in these halls before.  She is a slender and tiny monster. With large eyes that practically take up her entire head. Purple skin and … arms. Lots of arms. “Watch where you're going!”  And an attitude to boot, Sans notes. He grabs one of her many hands before she has a moment to collect herself and he pulls her into a storage closet. “Owowoww- what are you doin-?! Huaaah!” She gasps, three hands slapping her mouth in awe as she recognizes the boss’s pet.  Pointlessly, Sans cups his hand around her mouth to quiet her, a horizontal tower of hands blocking her mouth.   
   
He practically begs her not to make a sound. He makes a shush sound with his mouth and pleads for her help. If anyone should know where the Boss kept his important riches it should be a maid.  She quickly overpowers him, hands pinning backwards.   
   
“I’m sorry!” She whispers, though her vice grip feels like anything but apologetic to Sans. He bites his teeth to stop from squealing. With the daily abuse he received he’d have thought his pain threshold was higher than a little girl's grip can hold. Rather the repetitive attacks have left his bones sore and his will broken. Sans gives in easily to the pain, collapsing to a knee and crying uncle.   “I have a family to feed, I can’t get fired. Mr. Papyrus is the only one who will hire monsters in this economy!”   
   
Mr. Pap- ??? Wait - what did she say!?  
   
Sans wants to ask but no sooner does his mouth open than a thick webbing is spread across it. The maid wipes it from the slit of her wrists across his mouth. Sans bites at it. Calling out for her to help him escape but its no use. Her magic is too strong.   
   
Magic.  Magic….  
   
Sans has his magic. His eyes widen in realization. No longer shackled down by the collar he can access his magic. He calls upon it, closing his eyes to feel the trickle of energy flow through his bones again. It had been so long since he’d used an attack.   
   
A  white light materializes above his head. A tiny blaster that takes form. Due to his soul being separated from his body, the blaster is tinnier than Sans would have liked but the pup does an impressive job of scaring the maid. She backs into the wall, hitting a  mopping bucket with her foot.   
   
The bucket rolls forward and hits a bottle of soap. The soap topples a row of toiletries. A roll of toilet paper bounces forward, hits a broom. Hits a shelf. Knocks over a can of paint, that crashes into a box of lightbulbs. The popping sound of glass sounds like the cracking of a soul. Without even knowing what happened the maid clutches at her chest, staring at awe at the useless blaster. She’d heard her soul crack and she doesn’t know how it happened. All monsters are familiar with that sickly sound right before a monster dusts.   
   
She remains paralyzed for the briefest moments for Sans to force his way out of his bonds and slam shoulder first into the door. He bolts down the hallway, running as fast as his feet can take him.   
   
The blaster pup follows, hovering smugly at having won its first battle. Sans skids down a hall to a stop, hand hovering slightly. He motions with his arm for the pup to take a look out the corner of the hall.   
   
It does, confirms the path is safe and devoid of monsters. Sans takes the opportunity and dashes down the hall again.  He feels in tune with his magic now. He can hear the steady heartbeat throb through his skull even if he can’t feel the soul in his chest.  His magic runs through him, it is what composed all monsters and made them move. He feels it. Feels it closer.   
   
With his eyes fluttering closed and open he tries to concentrate on the sensation tugging at him. His soul wants to be part of his body, it was unnatural for it to be so far. But he feels it. Close now. The haphazard heartbeat, erratic after this sedentary monster runs down flight after flight of stairs and through hallways. He doesn't bother checking the doors. He knows for sure his soul is right up ahead.   
   
He turns the corner and - fuck.  
   
He turns back, ducking behind a wall to avoid being caught as Boss and Grillby walk through the house.   
   
“I keep telling you friend, all this space and nothing to do with it? I’ll gladly pay to rent out a few of your rooms.”   
   
“Ha… You need to learn to enjoy the simple things in life. Not everything is business. You're quite early. Won't you help me set up?”   
   
“Don't you have maids for that?”  
   
“Well it's not everyday you stop by, come now. I’ll tell you about the new pet I’ve acquired.”   
   
“A pet? You? Honestly I had the perfect gift for you a couple months ago. You should have taken my offer then. It was quite a prize, but alas the thing escaped.”  
   
“I’m sure I still would have said no. This one sings.”   
   
“Ah~ does it now? How lovely, I’d love to hear its song.”   
   
The two’s conversation gets lower and lower as they pass. Sans breathes a sigh of relief. He felt his heart racing a thousand miles a minute. He holds a long breath and tries to calm himself. He could see the front door from here. A stream of light escaping through the ornate glass door.  
   
So close…. And yet.   
   
He closes his eyes again. Searching for his soul.  It was right here, wasn’t it? He could have sworn it was close but now it feels like its another room away. Moving….   
   
Sans opens his eyes, his face falling into a bout of depression. Boss was carrying it.  His soul, was kept safe in the one place Sans didnt want to get close too. He looks around the corner, steps into the wide open room. He sees Grillby’s shoes and a suitcase by the door. He was staying a while and a passing thought, a maid would bring his bags up to his room soon enough.   
   
Sans wanders out the room. He follows from a distance the dry laughs and thin humor coming down the hall. The blaster with him is itching for a fight, nudging Sans for a command as it watches carefully its prey. Though Sans doubts the tiny blaster can shoot more than a sparkler worth of energy.   
   
He needed a plan. He couldn’t possibly rush in with those two in the same room. He didn’t know much about his new Boss, but he doubted he could take him in a fight. And he especially can’t fight Grillby. The monster is a seasoned warrior from before monsters had reached the surface. He’d killed more than his fair share of humans and monsters to achieve his status in the underground.   
   
No. Sans had to be quick and think of something else.   
   
The GasterBlaster has grown quite bored waiting for a command. It looks around the dining room that they’re in, eyeing picture frames and intricate carpet designs and scriptures. It finds an unhealthy interest in the glass cups set on the table and has the urge to push one off the edge. Sans eyes it, scolding the monsters silently with big wide words and expressions of dont you dare…  The blaster shivers into itself, wanting to push the cup.   
   
Behind it Sans sees the answer to his problem. A  candelabra on the table.  He picks it up, triumphant and calls the blaster over before it loses all self restraint.  He sits in a corner of the room; blaster close by, commanding the small summonable to light the wicks.   
   
With a small cough the gaster blaster opens its mouth and lets out a less than impressive spark. It tries again and again. Sans is patient. He holds his breath. His last hope for escape is in this one act.  After a few minutes of trying and failure the blaster, out of steam, finally lights up a single candle.  Sans sighs in relief, the candle flickers and he holds his breath again, shielding the small flame from going out.   
   
The blaster pup cocks its head at him, confused why the single candle is so important to its master. Sans can feel the question, though he has no means of a two way communication with the blaster- it understands him quite well. Sans points at the ceiling, at a white ring in particular and carefully gives the candlestand to the blaster to hold between its teeth.  He carries it, hovering on his side awkwardly to give the candle the best chance of staying lit and the pup holds it up to the white disk and waits.   
   
And waits.   
   
Sans raises a brow. He crosses the room and looks past the archway to the next room. Boss and Grillby sit yet another dining room, joyously fondling a bottle of wine. The fire alarm goes off at last. Sans smiles, ducking back into the shadows. The alarm only beeps twice before the sprinklers go off.  
   
“FUCKING FUCK FUCK!”   
   
“Shit! Grillbz are you - I’ll get an-- wait one sec!”  Papyrus flees the room, stomping angrily past Sans. Then again he crosses the room with an umbrella in hand and opens it indoors for the flame monster. Sans sits even stiller, breath quiet afraid of being caught. The blaster returns to his lap. Sans pets it affectionately. The lil buddy was good help when he was all alone.   
   
“Better, thanks.”   
   
“Go take a breather outside, pal. Take the wine with you, we dont want to water it down.”   
   
“You’re not coming?”  
   
“I have to get my bird out. He’s not very smart.”   Pfft. Sans crouches behind a plant. Watching as they walk past him. Grillby leaves out the front door, safety in the sunlight outside. The door closes behind him. A click assures that he has really gone.   
   
The Boss goes upstairs, passing maids as he walks by and tells them its fine to evacuate. They eagerly wait for permission before fleeing. Worse than a fire, is their hair getting wet. Some of the maids really have lost a grip of their priorities.  Then theres the small armed big eyed lady who stops Boss at the top of the stairs and tells him the bird has escaped. Sans grinds his teeth. He was so close. He could have pickpocketed the other skeleton. He could have taken him by surprise and take back his soul by force. Now the other monster was aware of his escape. And Sans has no plan left.   
   
The maids all leave. Papyrus continues up the stairs and Sans… Sans stays crouched in the corner of one of the dining rooms. Water dripping off his chin and puddles soaking into his clothes. He pets the blaster. Holding it closer and tries to think of a plan. 


	2. Singing in the rain

Papyrus continues upstairs, nothing left of him but the sunken in footsteps on the soggy carpeting. Stiff as a doll, a role he’s been familiar with in Boss’s abuse, Sans lies still in the corner. Unmoving. Unblinking. His eyes grow hollow from the black pits behind his lids. He stares out at nothing in particular in the room. When his eyelights flicker in and out of existence they do not settle on any one object for long. Candles, chairs, plates, napkins, cups, forks, knives. Yes knives. His nerves jump at that word and his mind goes blank again. Eyes retreating to the black void in his skull where his conscious mind reels at the possibilities upstairs. 

 

Drops of rain from the sprinklers above plop heavily against his skull and roll down the side of his cranium. Some awkwardly find their way through the curve of his eye or his nasal cavity and Sans shudders in place as these droplets form a small pool in the base of his mouth. 

 

His eyes settle again, on the knife lining the dining room table. Among the excessive forks and knives served for each guest there is a steak knife. Small enough to fit into his sleeve. Sans wasn’t fond of hand to hand combat. A knife would be too close, too personal for his fighting style. He was the type to attack from a distance, always ready for a quick escape. But as his situation currently stood, he wouldn’t be able to summon his bone attacks as he liked.  He was barely able to summon a blaster and the poor runt of a skull shivers in the cold water, burying its head deeper into Sans’s midsection.  If Sans had to fight, he’d guess he’d have a good four or five shots left in him for solid attacks before he got tired. Maybe he could push enough magic to his control for another blaster. Though he doubts the size will change and it would have more use as a pet than a weapon. 

 

Slowly he stands, clutching the blaster pup in one hand against his chest and picks up the knife. His own reflection in the small tang of the blade shows the tired red under his eyes. It looks almost like makeup, but he knows those are the stains of magic tears swelling up night after night. This had to end. He becomes resolute, testing the blade by swinging it a few times in his right hand. 

 

He’d never kill another monster before…. When he was younger he’d been in fights. Lots of fights actually. He’d never forget the day his little brother earned his first love. To see Papyrus covered in dust was an image he’d never get out his head but Sans was glad for it. Papyrus saved them both and they got to live longer. … 

 

… Much… much longer perhaps. Sans looks up at the staircase beyond the dining room arch. He moves towards it, compelled to it like a moth to a flame. He waits at the bottom of the stairs. Hesitant by… something. 

 

Slowly he backs up to the front entrance, sliding locks onto the door so no one may disturb them. He imagines the figure of ‘Boss’ coming downstairs, in a fit of rage to realise Sans had escaped. With any luck, this place would be a battlefield soon. Hopefully the maids had all left, leaving Sans alone to battle without holding back. Fighting was the only solution here, there was no other way to get his soul back. 

 

He’d have to kill Papyrus. 

 

His gut turns with that sickening thought. He clutches at his chest, nearly stabbing himself clumsily with the same knife. He was feeling nervous. Wrong. Was it because this would be his first kill? No. Sans had made his resolution on this. He had to fight back for his freedom and escape as soon as possible. With Grillby in the front yard and so close he had to escape before that tyrant found him as well. 

 

So why was his stomach in knots? 

 

He takes the stairs two at a time, nervous around the corners of the stairwell. It wasn’t good to have the lower ground.  

 

Was he nervous because this skeleton shared the same name as his brother? A pocket of bile rises to his throat. He swallows it dryly, shuddering at the bitterness of it. His stomach wouldn’t calm. He clenches his jaw, refusing to puke down the center of the spiral staircase. He had to brace himself for the fight ahead. This was no time to be weak. 

 

But they’re the same age, right? If Papyrus was still alive. … Both Skeletons. … Both with the same signature red magic…

 

But that was silly. His brother was dead. 

 

And if he wasnt… Sans grips the knife tighter. .. He’d kill him soon. Even though Sans had never killed before the bastard upstairs had done more than enough to ensure his full wrath. 

 

The double doors to the librarry are flung wide open. Waiting. Sans can see it from the end of the hall. For nearly three months he’d been imprisoned in that room with nothing, not even a book to read. He’d stare at the floor, the chains. Wait to be fed. Sing a fruitless song and be beaten for his cries to appeal to the sadistic needs of the taller skeleton. On a daily basis… he’d wait to be struck. Not even a meal was assured. 

 

The blaster hovers over his shoulder, sensing his dark thoughts and the intention of its summoner. Responsively, the tiny blaster prepares for a fight too. Sans slides the knife up his sleeve for later and bares himself at the front door way. 

 

Their eyes meet immediately.  Papyrus has been waiting for him, sat upon the sofa chair he’d usually recline in to listen to his lullabies. Now the chair is spun towards the door and Papyrus is sat with a glass jar in his lap. Inside; a fluttering, tiny, cracked, soul. 

 

“I’ve amassed this library through my entire life you know…” An unwavering voice calls out among the rainfall. Red enters the room and scruffs up the skirt of his dress into a knot. Underneath he wears the long jean pants he had stolen from the master bedroom, hiking them further up on his waist to keep them from slipping he gets into a defensive stance. 

 

“I want my soul back and I want to go home.” Red says loudly. His words bring no answer. Instead the gentleman before him stares down at the glass jar, tapping the side of it with a sharpened finger. He looks disinterested and Sans stutters to keep his resolve when the other isn’t even looking at him. He puffs out his chest and proclaims in a louder voice that demanded attention.  “I’m not your pet. I’m not your song bird…  You’re not my Boss. You’re sick. A real freak to kidnap me here. Now I’m asking nicely...  give me back my soul.” 

 

The skeleton drums his fingers along the glass case. 

 

“I’ve read each book here.” Papyrus continues, paying no mind to Sans. “I’ve made notes in the margins. Some collectors consider that to be devaluing the artifact but to me… these were more than books. Journals. Precious memories. Points in my life where reading had been an escape from the harsh reality of the underground.And now you’ve ruined them all… haven’t you?  Pulling your little stunt to escape. Did you think could fight me one on one if you clear the house?”  A low chuckle erupts from his jagged smirk. His eyes darken, finally looking at Sans the way Sans desired. As a threat, not a pet. 

 

But the glare is something that sends shivers down Sans’s spine. He’d wanted to be looked at as an equal. Instead he feels the stranglehold of the others overbearing presence. But he can’t back down. … Not when he’s so close to escape. … but… 

 

The tips of his fingers touch the knife. 

 

He can’t fight back either. If it were so easy he wouldn’t be beaten every time by the others brute strength. He wouldn’t have been captured by Grillby … or by the deranged Skeleton sat in front of him.  Then he see’s the blaster to his left. And feels a small sense of hope, the blaster and him share a side glance, able to understand the new idea Sans formed. 

 

“I’m angry, dove.” Papyrus hums. He sounds anything but angry. He sounds amused, entertained by the thought of someone challenging him. The doors to the room slam shut and Sans flinches in place to fight himself from looking back. His target was in front of him. 

 

Sparks of magic fly from his hand, dim and few, coalescing into a semi solid bone attack. Sans wields it in one hand. 

 

“You still  think you can fight me, Pet?”  Papyrus stands from his throne, coddling the glass jar in a hand and throws the other outward dramatically. Sans raises a brow, curious of the gesture. “Get on your knees and apologize, dear.” Papyrus tuts his teeth. “Maybe I’ll forgive you.” 

 

Sans would never do such a thing. Not when he was feeling as close to escape as now. With Papyrus focussed on only him the Pup has wound its way around the room, stalking ever closer to Papyrus. Freedom within its grasp. As soon as the pup collected the jar Sans would run for it. He could reunite with his soul and the blaster later. The important thing was getting it away from here and out of … his grubby claws. 

 

“Dove?” Papyrus questions, waiting for Sans to humiliate himself by sinking to his knees and beg for mercy. 

 

Sans doesn’t comply. He needed to hold out long enough for the blaster to sneak his soul away. So he fights. Grip tightening on his attack he lunges forward with a yell. Papyrus doesn't shirk back. Instead, glowing from the palm of his hand, his own weapon materializes;  a massive scythe that scrapes the top of the high arched ceiling. Suddenly his ridiculous pose is brought into perspective. With a flick of his wrist, Papyrus draws the thing close to him to fend off Sans’s attack with ease. The bone collides and shatters on impact. 

 

Sans jumps back. Awestruck as shards fall from between his fingers.  He summons another bone and this time flings it at the other, keeping his distance, but the same thing happens again. Papyrus doesn’t even budge his feet. 

 

Sans lunges forward again, starting to feel the wear of his magic coursing through his bones. Another shattered weapon. Another failed attempt. Another time Papyrus easily deflects the attack, as if a child were attacking him. Sans is wheezing just from over using his magic in such quick succession. He’d hope to hold his own ground against the taller, but the other isn’t even serious. As odd as it was for him to be lenient now, his master has yet to strike him once. Papyrus wasn’t fighting back, merely deflecting all of Sans’s pathetic attacks. But Sans couldn't give up…. Not when the blaster was so close… teeth at the edge of the jar, tugging it centimeter by centimeter further away from Papyrus… 

 

“You know this is futile… don’t you?” Papyrus stands absolute.Clothing soaked to the bone. Both of them stand with their clothes hanging heavily off of them. The sprinklers will not stop until the fire department arrives, and in the sealed room the water level has rose to ankle height. 

Papyrus draws the soul forward, holding it outward for all three to stare at. The blaster pup retreats, unable to successfully steal the vase. Sans tuts his teeth ... eyes drawn to the soul. 

 

“This is what you want isn’t it? Right? Come here. Take it.” 

 

“...” Sans doesn't move forward. 

 

“Whats wrong dove?” Papyrus smirks. “Are you afraid to come near?” 

 

If Sans was being honest with himself then the answer was -yes, he was definitely scared. The other had beat that fear into his bones. But he’s smart. He knows that whether he is two feet away or twenty that nothing in this room is out of reach of the gigantic scythe Papyrus wields with ease. The only thing keeping him civil is perhaps the knowledge that he has complete control  and that Sans is merely a fly against a lion. 

 

He knows its a trap though. There would be no good reason why Papyrus would just let him have his soul. He knew the soul was the sole reason Sans stood here right now. If he didn’t then why would he wait? Why would he taunt it out wards to him like bait? 

 

Papyrus doesn’t let him dwell on these questions. He stabs his scythe into the tile, allowing it to stand upright on its own weight. Sans stands on guard, unsure of the others intentions when he relinquishes his weapon. Papyrus needs both his hadns though, to unscrew the lid to the jar. 

 

In his ivory fingers he pulls out the quickly beating heart. Presenting it as a prize for all to see. He discards the glass jar. - Throwing it over his shoulder where it cracks on one side and floats back up oblong. 

 

“Sing… and I’ll give it back.” Papyrus smirks. “I never needed it anyway… you wouldn’t dare leave me, right dove? You know now, that you cant.” 

 

Sans shudders.

 

Yes. 

 

The giant scythe above them, towering taller than the bookshelves was a clear indication of the power difference between them. Sans is unsure if he can even measure up to the same strength with his soul back. His hope dips. 

 

“... If I sing… you will give me back my soul?” 

 

“No no... “ Papyrus laughs. “A single song isn’t enough to earn it back now is it? Apologize. On your knees.” 

 

“... And then. You’ll let me leave?”

 

“You can try.” his smirk growing larger. “It wont work.” 

 

Sans bites his jaw. He looks over the shoulder of the monster before him, asking the tiny blaster for help. The sentient pup is commanded by the flow of his magic, but even it has abandoned him. In the wake of the impossible weapon before them and the easily shattered attacks that slowly drain at Sans’s will and stamina they seem to be at a disadvantage; the pup fades away into nothingness, too afraid to attack, too afraid to continue with their dangerous plan to steal the soul. 

 

Now he is truly left alone with the other.  Distractions were useless if no one was on his team. Sans palms the blade. Surely the metal would bend too against the strength of the other. It seemed impossible. No. It was impossible. It was hopeless. Sans stares at his toes beyond the murk of water at his ankles. 

 

He gets down to a knee, sloshing the water to part for him. Then to the other knee, feeling the chill of it seep into his undergarments.  

 

“Stop that.” Papyrus orders him. Sans snaps his neck up. He’d nearly given in, what more could the monster want from him!? His eyes dart to his Boss to the fluttering heart in the others hand. Gently those curved talons scrape over the side of his soul. If Sans had been standing he would have fallen over from the light touch. The small movement feels amplified on his body. 

 

“I said stop that.” Papyrus’s sharp voice doesn’t sound reprimanding in the same way he’d ask him to sing or to beg. It sounds… panicked? Sans isn’t sure. He watches the other through half lidded eyes.

 

“Stop what?” Sans sputters back. He immediately regrets raising his tone. The scythe disappears and the slosh of water hits his ribs as the the taller disrupts the tide to approach him. Somehow the skeleton appeared more menacing without the threat of weapons. 

 

Papyrus kneels in front of him, holding his soul out so close Sans could try and grab it and run. He had the opportunity to do so… the scythe was gone and he could stab Papyrus he was so close, unable to defend. But it would be hopeless wouldn’t it? The monster had so much health… so much defence. A mere butter knife would do nothing…

 

“Stop.” Papyrus picks up his chin in the other hand. “Is shattering yourself better than staying with me, Pet?” 

 

Shattering? Sans looks at his soul. Normally he could tell his own stats when the heart rested safely in his ribs but now he has to check on the floating appendage. 

 

Hp  .04/1  

 

He sees the small cracks forming on the surface of it. The sound of glass cracking as new fissures opened up. Papyrus ran his thumb over the grooves of the soul, a gentle act to soothe him but it has the opposite effect. Sans feels personally attacked. Violated in ways his soul could only shudder to bare. He bends forward, hugging his shoulders, apologizing softly. Will broken. 

 

Did he want to die? Sans stares down at the water, waist high while sitting on his knees. He had thought about death before…. Wanting to kill himself was the main reason his soul had been taken away from him to begin with. But now the thought of killing himself wasn’t from any sort of spite or self pity. He just felt… empty. Hopeless. Should he just recline to being a pet for someone else? Would it be worth it to live in the company of a master who abused him daily, or would it just be simpler to hope for the best the next time life rolled the dice? 

 

He doesn’t think much of anything anymore. He’d been so close and now it felt hopeless. He’d never get to go outside. He’d just end up being passed around from one house to another like some toy… a pet… a monster that was lower than dirt. He wasn’t a person he was an object… thats all he’d ever be. 

 

He hears the prickling of cracks against his soul but the pain is numb now. The last time his health had been so low… Sans closes his eyes. 

 

He’d been in Waterfall. The rush of water flooding the caverns was similar to the sprinklers now. It added a muted ambiance of rainfall. He held his brothers dusted scarf in a hand and sent it out on a lilly pad to follow the current. The water would lead out to the surface. Thats what he believed. Somewhere… miles away… the stream would meet up with a river and the river would flow into the ocean. And the ocean would wash up the scarf on an island somewhere on the surface and his brother’s ashes could find peace in a world Sans thought he’d never get to be in. 

 

He cried back then…. Cried for so long his eyes felt hollow and his soul felt like it was breaking in two. … Thats when Grillby found him the first time. With shallow words and the rutting of their hips…. All that pain melted into lust and Sans felt like he had a person to keep living for. But it was always business for Grillby. Indulging in the goods he would later sell was just a bonus of the job. 

 

He didn’t even remember most of it.  He had his magic, he knows that for sure. He’d never been separated from his heart before… not before now.  He feels the pulse of the soul in his ribcage now, back where it belonged and a thumb that rubs over the front of his teeth. 

 

It was having his magic that made him feel helpless to begin with. Grillby never separated a monster from their soul. Sans could teleport any time he felt like. It wasn’t entrapment like here. It was a different kind of jail. One on his mind and body. 

 

Drugged to the point where Sans felt like he was melting… his soul felt numb like now.  He couldn’t even tell the ceiling from the floors. He couldn’t stand straight. Couldn’t count the stars on the ceiling because he lost track every time a new monster took to his bed. He had his magic and couldn't escape. Powerless.  Mind too foggy to do more than breathe… 

 

But now… with his soul in his chest he could teleport. The thought crosses through Sans, sparking a single digit of health to flicker to life for a brief moment before he realises his last shortcut was in back in  the underground. A place that had caved in years ago. He could end up in the middle of a boulder and suffocate to death… or be crushed in an instant. He didn’t really like either way of going. 

 

Shattering himself didn’t seem like a good way to go either. “I want to live. ” He leans into the touch, resting his head on the company of the other skeleton. There is a sound between them, the squelch of wet fabric as Sans, docile, crawls into the others open arms.  “I hate you! I hate it here! I don’t want to die! But I hate you! I hate this!!”

 

“Shhh…” Papyrus hushes him, calloused hands stroke the back of his skull.  “You know I don't want to hurt you,  dove. You force my hand. If you only sang I wouldn’t have to hurt you… But now. Tsk. What a giant mess you’ve made. … flooding the house with your silly plan to escape.” 

 

“Silly. Heh…” Sans starts to sob onto the other's shoulder, glad the monster couldn't feel his tears with the sprinklers above their heads on.  “Im sorry. I wont...wont try to leave Boss.” It was impossible.  “Never.”  Grillby was outside too. “ I’ll never leave.” He had to choose the lesser of two evils. “I’m sorry.” There would be no way to escape…

 

“Theres a good boy,” Papyrus praises him a quick check reveals that his health is back at a solid 1.  He stands to a knee and picks up Sans, holding him like a child. They open the front door, the flood of water is no better outside. “Finally got you to take a bath.” Papyrus chuckles. “Lets dry off outside? Okay, dove?”  

 

Sans shakes his head. Outside, despite the rain indoors, was bright and sunny. Grillby sat on the front yard along with other maids, awaiting the fire department to make their way up to the manor. Sans clutches hard at the back of the skeletons shoulder blades. 

 

“No. please! I--!” How could he say he didn't want to go out? He didn't want Grillby to see him. Didn’t want to be passed around like a doll from owner to owner. …  “Please... “ Sans gets quiet, face bright red with words that he tries to force out. “I want … I want you.” Sans pauses. He tries to make his act believable. “Please… Please… make... “ memories of that bedroom flit to his mind. Its so much worse when he’s concious to remember it all…. But he bites back his protests.  “I want you. Please make me yours. I’m - I’ll be good. I wont...I wont fight.” 

 

He knew the other wasn’t a fool and his act wasn’t convincing. But he watches as the smirk on Papyrus’s face slowly changes to a satisfied grin. Who would turn down an offer so sweet? 


	3. Knife to the heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning for some light sensual soul healing that excites Sans too much.

Papyrus carries Sans, satisfied with the fact the small skeleton was now gripping him so tightly. His precious pet, who hated these interactions, was now begging for attention. Begging to have Papyrus’s surely hands roam freely. Begging to have his will dominated by the other. It pleased Papyrus to no end, knowing that finally… Finally, his pet was trained. Fear had given him control. 

 

Like with every pet bird, the first thing he did was clip his wings, limit his freedom. A bird that cannot fly, cannot survive. It becomes dependant on its owner to be carried and fed. And this continues for months to the point that when the bird gains the ability to fly again, it won't. Unable to remember how they used to survive before domestication, the small song bird will forever cling to its owner. 

 

Papyrus runs a quick check over his pet's status, making sure the other was healthy enough to endure a quick romp but finding it to be diminutive despite the other so willing, he slides a hand under the hem of a dress and traces the jean pants Sans had put on during his escape.  He taps his fingers against the fabric, considering the others well being over his own needs.  His hard work would be for naught if he’d dust him during a fuck. 

 

So he hones magic from his soul to spread through his body, through his ribs, along his arm, into the very pads of his fingertips… The green colored magic traverse everywhere he touches. And Papyrus makes sure to touch everywhere. His small pet, so needy and shivering in the spray of water. Clothes matted to his side, showing off every curve…  

 

His eyes  fall upon the red tresses of silk that line his pet’s pale bones. He can make out the every detail of leg and hip. Something was sexy about the tight wet clothing. Revealing the outline of the petite monsters body, while still leaving so much to the imagination. He looks down at his toys face, he looks so at peace trying to snuggle into the comfort of Papyrus’ large calloused hands. Papyrus smirks, knowing that this rouse of submission was hiding something… something outside? Surely outside should be exactly where the other wants to go. Escape. Nothing is holding him back now that his soul and magic are united. Then what was his motive for staying in the cold damp house? 

 

Sans looks up at Papyrus, breathless but eager. So eager. He leans up to kiss Papyrus. A chaste kiss, revealing his dislike for it at first but he attempts to kiss him again. Trying to mask his discomfort by thrusting a small wet tongue into the skeletons mouth. Papyrus pushes forward, rising to a challenge of tongues.  His pet was cute… even though he can read the dullness of a kiss, it had been his pet's first. An awkward exchange each time growing more confident with new approaches. It was endearing. Adorable. 

 

He bites back a bit of guilt, having ignored his pet these last couple weeks.  He had been so enamored by song he would do anything… even beat this frail skeleton to hear that pleasant voice…He could have been training his dove for so much more than song. 

 

His hand climbs further up to rub against the soul that quivered, safe inside Sans ribcage.    He dares not remove it, since it was so fragile cracked and scared now from his bout of depression. Kneading  the soul between his palm and thumb, Papyrus plays the soul like an instrument.  At the slightest squeeze his small prisoner’s voice hitched in pitch, dragging out a higher note than any song. He could easily get addicted to hearing those sweet moans unaccompanied by outright yelling and crying. Just the pure bliss of a simple moan because Sans was buried into the taller skeletons moist shoulder, relaxing himself into the  strong embrace at his hips. 

 

His master began to play around with the soul. At first he had simply traced the long scratch around the convex surface, small squeezes here and there to elicit a moan from Sans. But he is cautious of the delicate thing cracking again. Green magic traces his fingertips as he tries to heal the wounds from his pet losing hope, giving into despair. Few minutes passed his interest, eyes shifted to the  smaller skeleton whom squirmed  in his lap. 

 

“Feeling better, dove?” Papyrus raised a non existent eyebrow, waiting for the wet sob of approval that Sans upheaves onto his shoulders. “If you hadn’t tried to escape you wouldn’t be hurting now would you?” Experimenting, Papyrus stroked over a particularly sensitive spot where the soul fractured across the surface and applied pressure to penetrate the organ. His fingertips slide in like a knife through jello, stopping his pets breathing; a gasp caught in his throat. 

 

Just the touch of Papyrus’s boney fingers grating across the surface of his soul had made him want to fall to his knees and scream but now those slender digits had slid into the small organ. He should be dead, dusted with the pain that would follow from such an abrasive healing technique. But instead a sudden surge of warmth spread throughout his bones. Sans buckles under a wave of pleasure and bows his head. Forehead butting against the other's shoulder, trying to hide how good that sudden motion felt. 

 

Papyrus kept a telling smirk on his face, clearly seeing the effect of his touch. Sans had jerked his hips up, his hands gripped the front of Papyrus’s shirt. Slender fingers laced in the green glow continued to poke and prod inside the warm cavern of the monsters soul. “Did that excite you, precious?”

 

Sans’ eyes were glued to the back bookshelves, rocking subconsciously to the pace those skilled fingers set. He felt a bit of drool come to his mouth when he tried to answer.  “I… Nnng!” This wasnt right.  He had been expecting Papyrus would savage him like he had done that horrible night,  instead he was slow and teasing the very being of his soul. Actually unraveling Sans into a mess of drool and moans.  

 

“Isss is feels..mmn.. Gud.” He closes his eyes for a brief moment. Losing himself in the feeling. Still the sprinklers above continue. Cascading the room in a quiet muted noise of rainfall.

 

 Sans blinks his eyes rapidly, trying to come back to his senses. This could be part of the plan, he just had to remain in control.  His imprisoner was healing him restoring those last shards of hp from his broken form. After a crushing one sided battle Sans had given up all hope but now that his soul was almost fully healed he feels the need to rebel spark up in his bones. He still had a chance. Still an ace, literally up his sleeve. But he lets out a cry of bliss, arching his back at the foreign intrusion. 

 

Quickly he quiets his moan, closing his jaw tight,  appalled by the sound that came from him. He wipes the drool from his chin and clears his throat to try again. “Y..your … t..to -uwaah. Your touch… it's- ahn… magic,  is guhhhd..! I …!!  -”

 

Sans’ breathing came out in short, shallow breaths. The time for rebellion was now.  His rollercoaster of anguish nearly over.  He didn't have to beat Papyrus for his soul or his freedom.  He already had both. Magic returning,  empowering him. His delicate scarred bones shone with the same soft red hue of what little magic replenishing through his bones. Papyrus continued to shallowly pet the now dripping soul. It's a violation of his body but Sans bears with it.  Right now the other was being gentle and giving Sans the opportunity to recover his magic,  even though he himself feels his body betray him. The soul dripped in Papyrus’s grasp and its rhythmic beating became faster within his hand.  

 

A few more repetitive strokes and Sans hp is stable and the monster in his lap is a quivering mass of nerves and too sensitive to get up. 

 

But this is his chance. 

 

Before,  the massive scythe had been too intimidating  for Sans to even dream he had a chance to escape.  Yet,  in his kindness Papyrus had given up the last thing binding Sans to this place.  His soul. 

 

With it now nested inside his ribcage he had no need to go through Papyrus for anything.  The cage is gone,  his collar unshackled,  his soul returned. …  and the knife still pressed in the sleeve of his left arm. 

 

Papyrus was defenseless.  Too close to make a counterattack now,  even if he knew it was coming.   The threat of Grillby was still outside. Unaware of his existence.  

 

Sans gulps.  He can do this.  Escape was not impossible after all.  It was very much real.   Very much in his grasp.  With Paps rubbing his soul,  the two clinging onto each other for warmth in cold shower of rain,  he cannot see what Sans has been doing behind his back. 

 

Sans produces the blade,  moaning with a shudder as fingers start to now trace his spine,  progressing more from the caressing touches  and now fevered with need.  Sitting in Papyrus’s lap he can feel exactly how strong that need is… and he refuses to be bound to that bed again.   

 

He would continue to lie and steal, and even sink to  murder  if it meant he could escape. He aims the knife for the  others back but pauses.   No, no.  That wouldn't do.  If  Sans missed he would be stabbing his own shoulder.  If the bastard somehow survived he’d need only to pull the blade out and chase Sans down…  Papyrus would do  it easily. 

 

So he moves the knife higher,  hovering over the nape of neck where spine and  cervical nerves would join.  If he stabbed there… crushed bone…  severed the link…  Papyrus wouldn't be able to chase him…  or move.  Ever.  

 

That's it then. 

 

Slowly, as a test,  he swings the knife arching his hand for the correct angle.  He moans into the fabric of Papyrus’s shirt…  noticing his hand jerks and gets off track when he's stroked so roughly.  He holds his breath now,  making it so he won't miss when he does strike. 

 

He counts in his head and draws the knife back to its highest point.

 

One.  He mimics the arch,  slow, steady,  without force. 

 

Two.   This was it.  He clutches the knife so hard his knuckles turn pink. 

 

THREE!  Hes about to swing out when a small jingle plays in the air. Papyrus stops his ministrations, stops rubbing him. Stops moving and hums in his throat. Disappointed. “Not now, asshole.”  He rummages through his pockets for a small cellular phone, now soaked and probably prone to short circuiting. Despite his previous anger he still answers the phone.  Sans so close he can hear the other voice. Grillby. 

 

“Are you quite alright in there? I can see the fire department pulling up down the road. Seems they’ve finally found your estate. Humans have such a slow response time.  I’d imagine your home would have burned down by now.” 

 

“Actually, it's the opposite.” Papyrus make a small chortle in his throat. The breathy laugh surprises Sans. He didn't think his captor was capable of anything but a stern frown and a slick smirk. Afraid of the other looking in his direction now, he hides the blade once more.  “ The sprinklers won't shut off at all. Looks like my library has been turned to a swimming pool.”  A hand reaches up and pets the side of Sans skull, a small apology for the necessary interruption. 

 

“What happened? Did one of the chefs burn something?”

 

“No, no, just some trouble my pet stirred. It's nothing too pressing. I might have to replace the floorboards and some furniture….” It's now that Papyrus see’s the look of mistrust on the others face. The worn, cautious expression betrayed in his sunken eye sockets. Jaw tight. Brow furrowed. His pet had, just a moment ago, been painted with the most exciting expressions and now looked distraught. Clearly agitated by something that instantly sobered up his pleasure. Was that look...terror? 

 

The pieces start to fit in his mind. He knows well enough the kind of business Grillby indulges in. Mentions, earlier, of an escapee.  And for the first time Papyrus now questions why he had found this song bird alone on the streets.

 

Twice a caged bird. 

 

Papyrus grimaces. He disliked the idea of Grillby flaunting his precious song bird to the highest bidder.  He puts the phone on mute. And looks over at Sans. 

 

“Do you know him?” A small and hesitant nod. Not sure what Papyrus was thinking. “Slept with him?” Sans bites his lip, hearing the anger in tone that time. Another moment passes and he sheepishly nods his head again. “Slept with others?” Sans feels his face go red… drugged to the point of overdosing, body used again and again until he collapsed of exhaustion… he doesn't have to remember the details to know that its true.  His humiliated face tells Papyrus everything he needs to know but he still retorts with a snide  huff. “Then why aren’t you any good in bed?”


	4. Get Away Car

Why wasn’t he any good? Good at what? Being raped? Sans tenses,  gripping the knife tight to calm himself.

 

Hed get this bastard,  but not now. On the phone call Grillby will overhear the death throes. So Sans grips it for himself,  pouring his anger into a tight squeeze against the hilt.  He could be patient.  Hes waited this long…  he could wait for the phone call to end.  

 

“Grillby could you be a dear and send one of the maids back in here?  The  blonde with pigtails. …  Yes. …  Green.  I dont know.  An alligator…  crocodile?... No I don't know the difference either.   ….  Well I didn't care when I hired  her.   … No you can't have her.  Thank you.”

 

He at last hangs up and Sans rears his head to ensure the phone is off.  Good.  No more interruptions.  He raises his hand swinging the knife up above his head only for it to slide out his grip and disappear in the water.  A single plop as water rises up and quickly fills its space. 

 

Shit.

 

“Grillby and I have been associates for a while and I would dislike it if he got his grubby hands on my toys… moreso if he tries to claim you back. Despite his mention of a gift I think he’d be more inclined to have me pay to keep you.” 

 

He moves quickly,  leaving the flooded library and heads downstairs where a maid joins him.  He's rude,  dismissive, and straight to the point when he asks her to fork over her wig collection that she's obviously been hoarding.  Offended, but still loyal to her boss she agrees without much fuss. She leads the way to her bedroom.   

 

Sloshing through water,  they hurriedly make their way to the maid's quarters  and she dresses up Sans in long lace sleeves and thin black pantyhose,  a blonde wig, and a veil.  Sans puts up with it, being dressed by a maid was near normal by now. He was going along with this plan to disguise himself, quickly understanding what Papyrus intended to do, but he can’t help but send a pleading glare to the maid for help. He’s alone in this escape. He knows that.  He  also knows he doesn't have very long to be dressed. Not even a minute had passed and the fire department busts down the front door and spreads out around the estate. 

 

Papyrus shares a look with him, hoping he’ll act the part of the damsel he looks to be. The clothes are sopping wet,  but he and the maid are roughly the same height.  It fits him like a glove,  a wet glove. Stretching linen across his bones and pushing aside wet bangs in his face.  Picking him up in strong arms, Sans bites his jaw tight and withholds a complaint. Victory was so close. 

 

Papyrus carries him to the door.  The front door. 

 

Sans had waited so long for this moment.  He’ll play nice,  greet Grillby in a fake female voice and bolt it to the next bus out of this hell hole. 

 

But what greets him instead is the pulse of wind as the door opens.  A vacuum of fresh air and warm summer wind settles on his freezing skin.  The bright sun nearly blinds him it's the main reason why he's glad to live on the surface now. He’d never seen anything more radiant and awe inspiring than the sun..  A highlight to his freedom. 

 

Then there's Grillby. The equally bright ball of fire and hot air that crashes Sans’s good mood. 

 

The purple flame monster is sitting on the hood of his car,  lounging out like a deviant with his long legs spread invitingly open,  making maids uncomfortable as he flirts with them.  Maids sit on the front lawn,  combing through their hair,  reapplying makeup and nodding politely as Grillby goes off to tell stories.  When he and Papyrus make eye contact the wisps of fire upturn from his mouth and smiles at the other  hands puffing up his black collar and red striped tie.  

 

“ Finally,  I'd have thought you drowned, friend. And who is this gorgeous trouble maker?  Your song bird?”

 

Sans clings closer to Papyrus’s neck.  Hands enveloping him as he is carried.  If he faces away from Grillby he won't be seen.  He won't be found.  He holds his breath,  as if it added to his invisibility.  Papyrus holds him tight,  possessive of his property. For once Sans didn't mind it. 

 

“Yes,  though you won't hear my dove sing today. Seems I must continue training. Speaking of which, Grillby,  I must ask you about your business.  I know I usually don't find an interest in these things but I wonder if -... “

 

Sans ignores their conversation as his eyes set upon the front of the mansion. Its the first time he has seen the three story building from the front.  Beautifully built on the property is a gazebo entwined with roses.  A stone path that leads to the garden. And most importantly…  a glass garage filled with dozens of cars.  Beautiful antiques and imports that Papyrus had collected.  

 

He turns his head slightly,  trying not to give away his identity but needing to get a glimpse of the road.  A firetruck blocked the side of the path,  but from what he can see there is a straight road leading away from this place. 

 

“... I'll try to find the paperwork.”  Grillby ends his conversation, steps off the hood of his car and slides down into the driver's seat. “Give me a call when you're settled.” Keys jingle, the car starts. He and Papyrus say farewell and the bastard takes off down the road.  The same distance that Sans stares so longingly towards.  He releases a long breath, trembling as the vehicle disappears onto the horizon. 

 

“Looks like he didn't discover you. Tsk.” Sans turns his head back to look at his captor. “Now he knows about you.  Damnit…  if you'd only told me sooner you belonged to him I could have planned accordingly…   avoid inviting him here.”

 

Staring at his smug calculating face makes him angry and with Grillby gone there was no longer any need to play nice.  Sans balls up his fist and punches Papyrus straight in the face,  catching him by surprise.  Few of the maids gasp and giggle at the exchange but Sans ignores them.  As soon as Papyrus is down and recovering from the hit Sans strugglesfrom his grasp. Clambers on his hands and knees pulling up grass to escape. 

 

He trips over the elongated dress,  barely able to cross the front lawn in such an outrageous  thing. So he tears it, pulling a soddy clump of skirt into his palm and summons a bone in the other to tear through it like tissue paper. Maybe against Papyrus his bone attacks have no bite but they weren't dull.  

 

He raises his arm,  directing the bones trajectory. . His magic feels full, complete. But Sans wanted to avoid any full confrontation. Even with his magic back he knew the difference in power was too overwhelming. He swings his arm out, sweeping it through the sky and the bone follows to build momentum before it smashes the front glass plating of the garage. He hears Papyrus curse once,  a half grunt of anger and whining of having to fix that.  

 

The first car he spots, that doesn't look like antique, is a bright red and black flame encrusted Lamborghini. He slides into the seat, falling into the divot adjusted for the others hieght.  Papyrus is on his heels running behind him now, so he doesn't have time to adjust the seat or mirrors. He hears the crunch of glass as his boots just enter the garage. 

 

“ Dove,  it's pointless to run.  Come back before something bad happens.  You could hurt yourself!”

 

Bullshit. If he stayed here any longer with that psycho skeleton he was going to dust.  Hed been on the verge of dusting so much in the past month if he were a human his hair would turn white from the mere stress of it all.   Sans looks for keys, quickly scouring the dashboard.

 

But there's no time for something as fragile as keys. He summons a bone and thinks of stabbing the ignition but he has no idea if the bone construct would start it or damage it.  Quickly his mind races he looks around for something small enough to jam into the socket something disposable something insignificant and… 

 

Him. 

 

He was small,  disposable, insignificant. His body, his soul, was worthless without freedom. He had to take a gamble so quickly he strikes into his own arm,  chipping at the ulna until a thin shard of bone splits and  fractures out from his bleeding arm and he jams it into the hole.  Twists and-!!

 

The motor starts with a low purr, engine just as excited as Sans was to escape. 

 

Two hands slam down on top of the hood of the car, Papyrus stands hunched over. “You're  gonna make me regret this dove.” Sans jumps, foot stomping on the gas. 

 

The car rolls forward,  the loud muffler creating echoes throughout the hall cars.  Papyrus, with an oomph,  is pinned between two vehicles. Clawed hands scratching at the glass plating between them.  The wheel rolls over the front of another car,  scratching and breaking off a mirror. 

 

“Dove. get. out the car. “ Papyrus’s teeth grit. Sans shakes his head too stunned for words how the other monster was still speaking after  being run over.  He puts the car in reverse,  skidding over the front lawn without looking behind himself. The bumper of the car creates spikes as it slides from the soft grass onto the hard pavement and spins out of control, rocking Sans back and forth like a ragdoll until it slows to a stop. Sans takes in a moment for himself, looking back he's glad he didn’t run over anyone. He see’s Papyrus still by the shed pulling himself out of the wreckage and the bystanders of servants who watch and do nothing but watch. Sans faces forward, bracing himself for the next part of this dumb plan when he finally gets to face forward and sees nothing but open road. 

 

Its beautiful.  Rolling mountains, sun in the distance.  Nothing ahead of him but the hot asphalt.  Maybe it's because the fire truck cleared the road,  maybe it's always been this open.  Sans didn't know didn't care  he shifts the car forward into drive and hears engine wale excitedly beneath his foot. 

 

Hes about to escape,  pedal hit flat against the ground to book it out of this place when a giant scythe crashes through the front window.  The whole car jerks forward,  cut in half from the dashboard. Sans launches forward. No seatbelt protecting him from his jaw spiking against the steering wheel and there he stares at his reflection. Too close for comfort.  His red eyes,  wide unblinking, fearful, and suddenly appearing in the tang of the summoned blade. Had it swung through the car and pavement another moment later he'd have lost a limb.  Was it coincidence or expert timing? 

 

Would the other have killed him rather than let him escape?

 

Up comes Papyrus,  jogging to the side of the car.  Out of breath from the short jaunt.  He seems unfazed by anything else.  He sticks his claws through the window, leaning on the passenger door. 

 

“I told you it was pointless. And now look at this mess.  I’ve had to destroy my second favorite toy. Get out the car dove. Get out and i'll forgive you. “

 

Sans jitters his head to the right.  Knuckles white on the broken steering wheel in front of him teeth clamped together. Feeling wet,  not from the sprinklers but from the trail of urine that piddles on the car seat beneath him and leaks down to his bare toes.   He nods his head,  voice unable to make any sound  other than the whimper mimicked by the dieing engine. 

 

“Get out dove.” Sans nods his head again. Again and again, nerves locking him to the chair. Pin pricks of tears start to swell up around his eyes. Out of adrenaline or the pure fear of nearly being cleaved, it didn’t matter, it takes every last shred of pride in him not to cry out like a child. So he shivers into himself. Unable to move. Unable to breathe as Papyrus walks around the car and comes closer. 

 

Opening the front door. A door that simply falls off its handle.  Ivory thorn like fingers reach out for him and Sans can’t even manage to jump back or hitch his breath. Fear completely absorbed his mind. The only thing processable to him right now was the last command his brain had issued. Drive. So Sans clutches at the useless steering wheel, even as Papyrus pulls him out of the sports car. 

 

“ You poor confused thing...” Both hands pull Sans into a warm embrace. It is the equivalent of safety,a security blanket around his trembling frame.Sans drops the hunk of metal and grips tightly to Paps shoulders.   “Too scared you can’t move? Its okay, darling. Look, the fire department has already taken care of the problem.” A pained laugh escapes through Sans’s nasal cavity. He stares out at the floor, the striped road and occasional flaming piece of shrapnel that rolls off the scrap of metal as Papyrus carries them back to safety. Back to the lawn where maids clap and cheer for the amazing display the great Papyrus has performed. Any brown nosing for a paycheck. 

 

“Oh dear, my home is ruined.”  Papyrus feins the fake sense of remorse in his voice. “If only I had summer villa I could, oh wait. I  do♥!” He pets the side of Sans’s head. Sans numb, fingernails digging into Papyrus’s shoulders the way a wet cat does. “We’ll have so much fun together dove.” 

 

Sans nods his head. A reaction from fear and the sudden despair of not agreeing with him immediately. He continues to shake his head. Unsure the message is clear. Or perhaps unable to stop once the motion has taken over his thoughts. 

 

The next hours are a blur to Sans. He remembers the maids lining up, and Papyrus choosing three of them to accompany him. They get in a car. Hit the open road he’s craved for, but his eyes gloss over the details. He knows he sits in the passenger side. A seatbelt strung around his neck, suffocating him at every red light.

 

If they stopped in a town he has no clue. He could have begged for help in the middle of a city. Could have climbed out the side door and gotten to a police station. Humans don't often help monsters… but it would have been worth a try. 

 

At one point there is nothing but a wide expanse of desert in every direction. The air conditioner blasting doesn't change the fact that sun beats down on him… drying his clothes and draining the energy out of him. If he had jumped there would be no place to run. No town or city for miles… not to mention the rough sands would probably sear up his bones and jumping from a moving vehicle.. did not seem likely. Maybe falling out of a moving vehicle was more accurate. He could barely sit up straight or keep his eyes open.

 

By sunset, when the skies are a deep auburn and creme of colour and the winds pick up to cool off the hot sun, Sans comes back to himself. Like a living doll having gained dominion at twilight. A husk of his cowardice dismissed as he starts to recline into his role of pet again. An inevitable fate for him, it would seem. He knows he won’t reside himself to it. But for now… he was so tired. So put out by the day's event. Emotionally and physically exhausted, he just wanted some normality. no - scratch that. He wanted some food. 

 

“I’m hungry.” He looks over at Papyrus, he looks so cool driving with one hand, sunglasses and tie blowing in the breeze behind him. The bastard. In the backseat are three sleeping maids. The select few he’s chosen to come along. The spider woman is there, the one who had tattled on him. As is the reptile woman who’d loan him these clothes. There is a third he doesn't know. 

 

To be fair, he didn’t know any of the maids. Not well enough for first names at least, but he recognized them from when they changed his bedding and dressed him up. He’d see them dusting and try to engage in conversation once or twice before it became apparent they would not talk back. The third is small mousy woman, unlike the other her uniform is not that of a french maid, but is pure white  and long like a monks gi. 

 

Papyrus draws a hand towards Sans ebbing for his crotch, but grabs at the passengers glove compartment. Sans sighs, relieved at the bag of trail mix that is dropped into his lap. 

 

“Trail mix… yay.” He says a bit too unenthusiastically. Sarcasm his only coping mechanism. “Aren’t you a fucking billionair or something?”

 

“We’re not stopping to eat some place where you can run away. But if my dove doesn’t like trail mix perhaps I can offer you a mouthful of a different kind of seed and nuts...” 

 

“-!!! Bird food it is.. Yum.” He grabs a handful from the bag and shoves it into his mouth. 

 

“Mm.. Later then.” Papyrus hums.  Sans tries not to hear that. Crunching the stale bag down, he scoots as far as he can to the car door and stares out the side… cliffs and mountains. He had no idea where they were anymore. Not a single light is visible from the road. The small bag is long gone before they arrive at their destination.  Papyrus opens the car door on his side, steps around and opens up  Sans car door from the other side. Completely doting on him, even if the action was less than charming coming from him. Still hungry, magic exhausted from a day of running… All Sans wants to do is lie down and sleep. 

 

The thought is further pounded into him as one of the maids, the gator woman, takes to the front seat and drives the vehicle back home. Far far away from where Sans could use it to escape. Papyrus had no doubt planned that from the start… 

 

So now he looks at the log cabin, a sign above it bearing the name Thorny Oakenshed. Papyrus’s summer villa, apparently.  Sans looks around for signs of life. Lights that should be visible in the moonlight… campers that might have tents or fires… or cellphone reception… friendly wolves? Anything. But there is only the glimmer of a lake in the distance and frosty mist rolling off nearby mountains.  The cabin itself is so deep in forest that Sans isn’t sure he can make his way back if he got lost. 

 

Perfect for a hostage. Sans rolls his eyes. The oak cabin smells like timber.. Like the same timbering logs that smelled off of Grillby. The scent makes him nauseous, memories of that sweat laden bed make him shiver. He vehemently makes a point not to go inside. Papyrus laughs at that. Saying there's nothing else out here. He might as well said, no one can hear you scream out here- for all the glorious comfort that sentence brought.  

 

But stubbornly his eyes scan across a set of patio furniture and Sans sits there, refusing to move until his soul gurgles from hunger. His short rebellion broken in record time. Papyrus nearly laughs, picks him up by both hips and brings his dove indoors but not before paying the toll of a kiss.Something Papyrus enforces as he twists the other arm, the dried blood on his ulna threatening to crack and start dripping again.  

 

Sans summons his tongue, crying uncle and leans into a kiss for Papyrus to devour. Meanwhile the remaining two maids spread about the house. The spider woman cleans and dusts the living space with her many arms, ignoring the couple making out in the doorway and cleans around them with ease. The other, a small mouse,  tries to find something salvageable in the kitchen and begins dinner. She seems to be an expert chef. 

 

“You’ve been so bad today dove.” Papyrus lifts the end of Sans chin with a finger, ensures he’s looking at noone else but his master. “I dont think a song will put me in a good mood anymore.”  

 

Sans gulps at that, completely seeing the thinly veiled lust in the others eyes. He shakes his head. Protesting that he can sing. He can still sing. And sing he does. A ballad of a time long past. A lullaby he once sang to pass the rolling dark days in the underground. It is a poor form of entertainment. Papyrus finds fun in drawing the skeleton to his lap, throwin the wig aside and starts to taunt Sans. Hands creeping up his thighs and rubbing at his pelvic bone.  Song hitching, not wanting to stop because he knew this is exactly what Papyrus wanted… for his song to struggle to remain on key and level even as Papyrus played with him.

 

It's a relief when the announcement for dinner is made. But it puts in perspective just how close the kitchen is and how close the other maids are. Its a single room between the fireplace, dining room, and kitchen. And though the space is large it offered no privacy at all. Sans can’t help but imagine the horrors that the maids had witnessed and would witness later. 

 

Dinner, loaves of bread stuffed with soup, an inside out pot pie is served to each person. The four of them sit around a wooden table, sharing in the meal. Here, it does not matter that these servants work for Papyrus. They do not falter when he lifts Sans onto his lap. Nor do they make any expression when  Papyrus moves to feed his pet. One spoonful at a time,  just like before. Despite his need for protest Sans had grown dull to the treatment. He’s tired. Tired of fighting, tired of talking, hungry as hell, so he allows it, eagerly opening his mouth for the next bite. It seems to satisfy Boss. Enough so that later  when Sans is introduced to their shared bedroom, Papyrus doesn't attempt anything. Instead, telling Sans to get some sleep.

 

Sleep in a bed. A fluffy warm bed. Not a cage. It practically makes his soul leap for joy. He sinks into the mattress. Rolls into layers and layers of blankets and pillows and falls asleep, snoring loudly in the comfort and warmth of a real bed. 

 

Papyrus sits beside him, in a writing desk by the window. There is a small home pc that he boots up and checks his email. Thankful that Grillby had sent those documents so quickly. His pets’ would be papers.  He scans through boring information. Age, blood type, a list of drugs, ratings which all appear low… hmm, gender, bloodwork, clinic treatments, pricing… there is a section of favorable kinks the other engages in. Things that make Papyrus revel in disgust and feel apologetic for… even though it wasn't him doing those thing he makes a mental note to avoid those triggers. 

 

Eventually his eyes stop upon a single name. No last name.

 

Sans. 

 

He stares at it for a moment. Then at the sleeping lithe figure rolled in blankets, snoring loudly.  He’d never thought of asking his dove for a name. Didn’t care about it in the slightest. The other was his pet, his toy, his possession? Why give it name, entitlement, and freewill.  No, this hadn’t been what he was looking for… but it was interesting anyhow.  Sans. 

 

He thinks upon years ago… decades it would seem, to a time when monsters had been sealed under the mountain. His brother had been named Sans. Sans would protect him from harm. And find him food. The two would snuggle together for warmth and build shelters out of twigs and torn magazines. They lived in the dump, daily scraping by with food and resources enough to earn some money. Money they couldn’t spend on anything. Not when they were both street urchins. Orphaned by their parents and left to rot in a dying world. Kill or be killed… but his brother always took care of him. 

 

Papyrus smiles to himself, the fond memory of his brother filling him with a sorrowful smile. He’d miss those long days in the damp, turning over a chewed up piece of moldy bread and sharing it  in two just to stay alive. Sans kept him alive. Taught him everything he knew. 

 

He looks at his precious dove, ignoring the soft snores, and merely looks at his face. The exhausted red lines under his eyes, scared bones, the engraved P on his clavicle. It was strange to think that after all this time at long last he would meet…

 

..someone with the same name as his brother. 


	5. Marking his Property

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING :This chapter 'Marking his property' involves- Marking by carving into bone, blood marrow. AND Marking by having sex AND Marking by past prostitution. Meant to be read by peeps 18+ 
> 
> I no longer have the sfw version to post... and it takes too long to edit. If you are uncomfortable with readingthat - but want to know of plot drops - Skip to end notes for a summary.

Papyrus traced the side of his Dove's cheek, pausing ever slowly when a shallow breath shook his frame.

 

 _Beautiful_.

 

The swivel chair was parked at the side of the bed, where he watched his pet sleep. There were small contortions on his lip, sleep mumbled words and drool, that seemed like a chant to Papyrus. It was as if a spell held him in place because he continued to watched for minutes, completely captivated by the skeleton, before returning back to his work.

 

He forced himself to turn his chair around and stared deep at the archived folders Grillby had given him. With his master password now every document was accessible. Every single documented paper, video, survey, employee, and customer list from the last fifteen years… Grillby sure had been busy.

 

Papyrus withheld a groan, he truly didn’t expect such extensive paperwork. When he had offered to help it was an indirect way to get information on his pet without asking. He thought it was sly at the time, much better than asking Grillby for help. Afterall, he knew Grillby better than anyone. His ‘ _gifts_ ’ were a pay per use service and there was no way he was going to buy a pet that was already living in his house. Unfortunately, the task of owning up to his word and processing each file left him with no time for himself. He should have withdrawn his pride. How much would his dove really cost? Four, Five, hundred? Grillby never trained him, thats for sure... maybe his value was less than that.

 

Not that it mattered. If Papyrus showed any interest in his pet whatever price set was sure to quadruple until Grillbz was satisfied. The illusion of _‘friends’_ meant nothing when cash was involved.So Papyrus accepted his stupid responsibility and faced the blue glow of the computer again, fingers tirelessly clacking away on the keyboard through the night.

 

Every so often he found himself gravitating to the open file on his pet. That name left a sour taste in his mouth. He'd met other skeletons on the surface and hadn't felt half as much nausea as facing _that_ name. Though, he supposed, it didn't matter what he called his pet. It didn't _need_ a name. It just needed to _serve_ him. It didn't matter if that was through song, torment, amusement, or pleasure.  

 

He looks over his shoulder at the small skeleton, bundled like a burrito in blankets. It was surprising anything like _that_ would intrigue the great and terrifying Papyrus. The monster was anything but a match for him. His Dove caused him so much trouble, causing fires, breaking cars, running away, hurting his maids, interrupting his meetings, biting, yelling, baring his sharp teeth and pouting his cheeks so that his face became red with anger and fear and sweat... wanton and humiliated and begging...

 

His Dove snores softly between the rolls of sheets.

 

Papyrus stared out at the monster. Once again transfixed to the sleeping face of his pet.  

 

He could work another time. Yes. He was the boss of his own company. He could take a damn vacation if he wanted to and he wasn’t being paid to help Grillby. He was merely bound by his word and right now he was camping out in his summer villa. He could stop working whenever he wanted, fuck that shit! Or at least.. It could wait until morning.

 

He stretched backward in his chair, eyes catching the faint glows of sunlight fading into the room. Morning already…

 

It could wait till noon. A nap first…

 

He twisted in his chair to shut down the computer but instead, his eyes fell upon the open file of his pet. _His_ prostitute.

 

Despite how Papyrus laid claim to the small monster it didn’t change his past. There still remained a long,  … long  list of customers and hundreds of hours of film that Papyrus didn’t even want to begin to watch.   

 

He thought back to when he’d last seen his stripped dove and in the light of the bathroom  saw a ton of scars littering his pet's body. The small P he engraved didn't even stand out among the gashes and tears.

 

That had to be fixed.

 

With renewed energy, Papyrus spun in his chair and and shook his Dove awake. He didn't care at the moment to disturb his rest. Papyrus’s mind was only on the long list of patrons his pet had collected.

 

His pet was quite the experienced little whore. It's a wonder why his Dove fought back and argued at every opportunity available. Even now he felt a foot kicking him in his sleep. He swallowed a groan from his throat and tried to ignore it the pain in his chest. This… _jealousy_.

 

Sans woke immediately,  being man handled in the midst of a good dream had shook the sleep from him in a fit of panic and urgency. The back of his knuckles collided with Papyrus's chin and Sans flung himself from the arms holding him. It wasn't until a moment later, when he had become aware of his surroundings that he meekly and quickly apologized.

 

“I’m! I’m sorry B-bossS! I did’nt mean- mean it ! I was s-slepping and-it was an accident!!!”

 

But Papyrus, didn't do anything. He held a palm to his hurting chin, like a philosopher would have. It makes him looks suave, patient, cunning, especially when he sat upon the computer chair like some arrogant drug lord.

"Dove. Strip for me."  His voice barely registers above a whisper but despite it being said so softly there was a demanding presence in his tone. _Impatience_ , and that shook Sans with the weight of a threat. If he didn't strip there would, no doubt, be consequences. And if he did strip... well, Sans knew well the hungry look of lust his master had for him.

 

He doesn't take long to decide which would be better. With the swiftness of a soldier he shook himself from the entanglement of blankets and stood alert beside the bed.  

 

Shivering in a mass of nerves, he first tried to remove his stockings. He lifted his leg and bent it on the side of the mattress.  Boss wanted a show right?

"No, wait. Leave those on." Sans grit his teeth but nodded his head. Boss’s face was unreadable in the dark. Outside, from over Papyrus's shoulder he can start to see the pinpricks of sunlight stream through the shades. It filters around the monster, creating a halo of light that blinded Sans. To avoid it, he stared back down at himself, continuing to undress.

 

He untied the sash around his waist and tried to take off the dress in a way that would be 'sexy' to his master. Shaking, he attempted to roll the dress up from the skirt first and pulled it over his head but it only earns him a chuckle. Sans freezes, his face turns red from within the silk. He didn't even _want_ to strip and now he was being _laughed_ at. Fuck him! He hated wearing dresses, how the hell was he properly supposed to take it off?!

 

He throws his hands up and tries to stuff his arms and head out from the top, effectively getting stuck inside it. He jerks it upwards, trying to get free. There wasn't really any more graceful way to do it, or so he thought.

 

He felt hands suddenly trace on his hips while he was still stuck inside the gown. It left him blind and afraid that Boss might just push him down like this and have his way. But the fabric gets pulled back down to fit snuggly over himself. Papyrus stands behind him,  breath on the back of his neck, helping to zip the dress off. It crumpled to the floor in a ring around his feet. Sans stared at his bare pelvis. His knees shook in place.

 

"My, aren't you obedient?If I had known you'd be so docile now, I would have let you play out your little escape game sooner."

 

Sans’s fist trembled. His escape was only a _game_?

 

He knew now he didn't stand a chance against Papyrus in a fight... and that escape was impossible. Especially when his master may have been inches from cutting him and the car in half. He was expendable and ultimately trapped. So _obedient_ wasn't the word he wanted to be associated with... complying. Maybe.

 

He didn't want this, but his options weren't good either. So he stayed still as Papyrus rubbed the tips of his fingers across each dip and bump on bone. He didn't know what his master was doing. It was almost like he was purposely tracing every scar. Maybe doing it just to see Sans flinch. Sans didn't move, he let the creep feel up on him as much as he liked.

 

But despite his… _compliance,_  Sans couldn’t help but feel angry. His hands were free. No longer tied down by chain. He should be fighting still and yet... he couldn't. Logically, it was pointless. He wasn't quite sure what to do with his hands. He couldn't ball them into his clothing or hide his bare bone. He knew that would only make matters worse.

Suddenly a bone weapon manifested itself in the room. The red light from it casts the two in the color of blood. Despite his resolve to stay still Sans's reflexes take hold of his body. He lunges forward out of Papyrus’s arms and spun on his heel to summon his own weapon. Wielding it in both hands he crouched, ready to defend himself if needed.

 

Papyrus doesn't appear to be a threat… the monster wouldn’t outright kill him would he? He had nearly done so… so many times before. Sans raises his voice just loud enough to ask- "Wha- What are you doing!?"

"What do you think you're doing? Pet."

"I thought you wanted to have sex! Not fucking this!? I've done what you asked! Why are you attacking!?"

Papyrus bent the femur between his palms, snapping it into two halves he held equally. Each hand held the shard like daggers now and Sans was supposed to be calm?

 

Papyrus waves a finger for his dove to come closer, dismissing one half of the bone. When Sans still shows hesitance, Papyrus decides to sit on the bed to show he was not a threat.

 

Though confused, minutes past without the words filling the space. Questions melted away as Sans no doubt knew they wouldn't be answered. Papyrus wasn't intent on explaining himself, he just sat, waving for Sans to come closer.

 

_Was this punishment? What would he do with that bone? What would happen to him if he refused Papyrus when he was being so patient?_

 

Sans slowly came to crawl up to his master's lap and wait. He had dismissed his weapon. It was worthless anyway. He could never match the physical prowess and raw strength Papyrus unfairly boasted.

"Like this, b-boss?" Sans felt like choking. A hand wrapped its way around his waist the moment he sat and from his seat he could feel the heat radiating off of the pervert. Even still, his eyes stayed focused on the magic blade. Papyrus has yet to explain his intentions. He smirks. With a sadistic grin, he slowly presses the bone closer… closer.

"Don't hold back your beautiful voice... tell me if I get too... rough."

 

Sans shuts his eyes tight. How low he'd fallen. He curses at himself, at his inability to move or run or fight back. He was afraid. Shaking... but this was nothing compared to the months he had spent being tortured. The only thing scary about this was- well, not knowing what this was. He feels the blade press at his sternum and scratch at the surface.

 

Just below his soul flutters anxiously.

 

…

"There. Now its perfect." Papyrus purrs. He seals the act by laying a kiss over the scratched marks.

 

"Wha-Whats perfect, boss?"

 

Papyrus looks back over his work, his name now proudly engraved down the center of his Dove's ribcage. Among... countless other scars. Scratches. Bites. The letters L and R are faded into his arms and legs. Long serrated cuts run across bone. Marks Papyrus never made. The small surface scratches were nothing on the giant canvas of his body. He needed to make his mark bigger. Deeper. Right into the marrow where it wouldn't heal so easily.

 

He picks up his chisel again.

 

Quietly he hears his Dove whimper as he traces through each letter again and again. Sans finds a purpose for his hands at last, by resting them on his masters head. He tries not to move, afraid that his fidgeting will somehow end up hurting them both.

 

Nowhere visible under the swollen welt of blood and flakes of bone is there anything resembling a name anymore. Papyrus hissed. Bones were still covered in scars.  The damage done to his dove.

 

The _proof_ someone else had taken his property.

 

He knew it shouldn't make him mad, it was something in the past. Something he could seek revenge on if he wanted. Afterall, he had an archive of all his clientele. Eliminating them would be child's play for any monster.

 

But that wasn't what Papyrus wanted. Revenge was something left behind for monsterkind in those cold dark caverns beneath the mountain.

 

What he wanted was something more primal. There was something gratifying about seeing his small dove, shaking in place with tears in the corners of his eyes. Too afraid to disobey and yet... there was that fire still. That baring of teeth and raw hatred aimed towards Papyrus.

 

His eyes look over more than just the fresh cuts now. His beautiful dove was wearing nothing but black thigh high stockings.  His pale bones were flush in hues of pink from irritation. Such an inviting look.... He contemplated jumping the other's bones but-

 

-despite how much Sans shook in place, red faced, and on the brink of tears Papyrus felt sickened by the thought of sex.

 

More accurately, he was sickened by what _they_ did to his Dove. Papyrus had been trying to bury his bone, but again and again his Dove evaded him. People kept arising, situations changed... it was finally just them. No emergencies to attend to and yet he couldn’t even bend his willing pet to their bed. Something was wrong with him. He held his head in a palm, awaking from his stupor to see the small drip of blood down pale bone. He was no better than the monsters who bought him for their own sick pleasure.

 

“You can put your clothes back on.” Papyrus stands back up with a groan. He was a monster wasn’t he? His pet shivered in place… still sitting so close in his lap. Papyrus could just unzip his fly and have his dove ride him like this. It would be entertaining…

 

But he shook his head clear of the thought and pushed Sans off of him.  “Get dressed.” He repeats again. The sudden shift startles Sans. His breath catches in his throat as he looks up at his master. But Papyrus doesn’t even spare him a glance. Boss returns to his desk chair and basks himself in the glow of the computer monitor. Effectively shutting Sans out.

 

But why? He’d been doing good! Right? He didn’t scream or fight or argue or anything while the extension of letters drug deeper into his bone! To be honest, he had been filled with fear since the day he noticed the scar. He became paranoid that more than the P initial would mar him but the pain he felt was nothing as vivid as his imagination.

 

_“... Just know it’s there because you belong to me. No one else.”_

 

That’s what Boss has said last time Sans asked about the mark. He doubted his reasons had changed in such a short span of time. The bastard was being possessive, more so since he had found out Grillby was his previous owner.

 

The fragile skeleton stood bare in the room, staring at the other who became so suddenly enamored in work. Sans could have sworn that, by now, Boss should have felt his heavy gaze eyeing his back. It didn’t make sense to him.  Not that Sans would complain, any excuse to put pants back on was good enough for him. He’d been expecting a worse punishment but since his attempted escape yesterday… nothing had been bad.

 

He knew it was too short a time for any real pattern to develop but Papyrus’s lack of abuse had him worried. Perhaps there was something worse than the torment he experienced every day.

 

_Perhaps freedom from the cage wasn’t better at all._

 

… He stood for a while. Quiet. The bed that once seemed like a safe haven felt horribly corrupt. Boss would pin him to it in a minute. He didn’t even have to overpower Sans, he knew it was worthless to try to do anything but his Boss’s will.

 

His soul cringed at that. A small fracture chipped at its edges. The sound too small for Boss to hear from his chair, but Sans felt it. Knew it had been damaged. He closes his eyes tight and tried his best to breath slowly. But the darkness behind his eyes was no better at helping him calm.

 

Boss said to dress… and that was favorable. Everything was fine. No reason to panic.

 

Cold now, he sifts the floor with his feet for something to wear. He finds the thick lace dress and rolls it into a ball to pull over his head.The damn thing was impossible to put on. He wondered, for a moment, if he could ask for his captors help.

 

Holding the dress in both his hands he attempted to cover himself with however much modesty he could save at this point, and he approached Papyrus from behind and saw-

 

_Himself._

 

Sans, with eyes half open and tongue hanging out his mouth, was being held up to look at the camera for his profile picture. The headshot does little to conceal the fact that under the cut Sans is naked and adopted in chains. Beside the photo is his name. His height. His weight. His age. His life on display in front of Boss.

 

“...Grillby sent you that?” He already knew the answer and a bob from the Boss’s head confirms it.Something twists in Sans gut. He had no memories from the last fifteen years, nothing past the few times Grillby came to check on him. To refill his drugs and keep him prisoner. Sans bit his lip.

 

“Can I see it…?” The chair makes a three quarters turn towards Sans. An edge of silence and a precarious brow raises to look at Sans. “Ne-nevermind! Ah~ I need help. I mean.. To zip up the dress!”

 

There was too much curiosity in his precious songbirds tone for Papyrus not to notice. _Can I see it,_  implied so much. Papyrus’s mind raced. Perhaps his dove was turned on by watching himself. Perhaps he was simply curious on the file and not the video. Perhaps, like the file said, those kinks really were his favorite and his pet longed for more than just soft patting. It didn’t look like the other was getting dressed anytime soon. Odd, because Papyrus had clearly specified twice to dress. Zipper or not getting dressed didn’t require his aid.

 

Sans felt sheepish for asking such an embarrassing thing. He sees boss struggling, his eye lights flutter from one thought to another. Should he have said something else? It was too bold of him to ask to see the file. He should have gotten dressed and went back to sleep. Peeking over at boss’s work might have gotten him in more trouble. He swallows back a lump in his throat and tries again.

 

“It's late.. Um… early. Boss. You shouldn’t be working still… and-” There was no way the other would let him see that file. How stupid could he be! There was only one way to get anything from this bastard. Bitterly, Sans drops the dress, still playing the role of captive. An immediate interest flashes on Boss’s face. “ - and I… need you to come to bed.” Sans shivers. His teeth grind against each other anxiously. The only way to get it was to play nice, tire his captor out and look at it while he was asleep. Yes, he could do that. It was only sex. Only song.  This monster didn’t require anything more of him than to be a doll.

 

“No. Get dressed. I’m working.”

 

Sans practically gags. _Working?! Since when was working more interesting than playing with his pet?_  With the removal of the cage… Sans had to find use, purpose. Something bad was coming, he could sense it. His bones trembled with whatever thought of punishment was coming from trying to escape. _A game_ , Papyrus said and yet he’d almost killed Sans while trying to keep him from escaping. It was ridiculous. If sex wasn’t tempting anymore… if song only kept him mildly amused what was the point of Sans being here?! Would he be a play thing? Tortured until he broke? The name carved in his bones seemed to support that theory. He belonged to Boss. He was a canvas to ruin.

 

Worthless.

Useless.

 

A wheezy breath shakes though him, but Sans finds the courage to do exactly what he hated about the bastard. He pushed himself into the other's lap again, willfully and desperate to be touched.

 

“Please... I need-” _a purpose_ “-you inside me...Boss.” He’s nervous. Just the other day he had tried the same pathetic act to get close enough to stab. That act of rebellion seemed so futile now. Sans shudders, seemingly excited. That scythe was something out of nightmares. Its range and mobility were expertly handled by the bastard holding him. Those same fingers coddling his hips… protective.

 

It was up to Sans to seduce him. It was his choice and he never had that choice before. Not willingly. If he had to, he’d use it for any means to extort this bastard into giving him what he wanted. Papyrus was too weak to his offers. Even when knowing it was a lie, the bastard wouldn’t let a chance escape him to have his pet eagerly moan and pant for attention.

 

Sans swallowed a hiccup of bile, he’d have to bear with it for a little while. It was fine. He wraps his hands around Papyrus’s broad shoulders and looks into his distant, disinterested eyes. _Why wasn’t this working?_

 

“My dear, sweet, perfect, Dove…” Papyrus bends forward for the briefest of kisses. Sans summons his tongue, bends into the kiss to take more from his master… but the bastard leans back in his chair, an arrogant smirk on his features. “...what makes you think I’ve forgotten about your nasty attitude. As docile as you are now, I know you're just a manipulative little whore.” Each word is biting at his core. Sans trembled.

 

“I’m not.” He responds quickly. “I really do want-”

 

“Want what? Your soul? Your freedom? Haven’t I given you everything you want dove? Or is it this… this file that has you so desperate for a fuck?” Sans can’t help perking up at the mention of the file. Papyrus purrs. He drags a hand over each rib slowly as  he makes his way towards the desk and clicks open a video.

 

 _“(Ahhn… gg). Moar.. plees ‘m -(gurcsk)- begking.. Heelp.”_  His moans fill the video, Sans winces. His face goes bright red and he stares with horror at himself. They both do.

 

_He’s held up in midair, suspended by two hooks that tear through his eye sockets and press against his skull. His arms and legs are missing, strewn about the floor like the client's clothes. Not that Sans needed clothes, he's absolutely covered in excrement._

 

_His small shaking body only puts more strain on the chains. He’s hefted into it with each thrust and dropped back down with a gut wrenching whimper. The client bobs him up and down with the chain, lowering him onto his throbbing cocks while Sans screams. A gurgle of pleasure and pain - so much pain._

 

On his lap, his poor dove shook.   _His mouth is forced open, pried from his skull with a sharp clack._ Both skeletons jump.   _A wet guttural sound like a pig squealing emerges from Sans, unable to vocalize pain or pleasure or anything. He arches his back, spine the only thing left of him to use. The client finally lowers him completely, chains fall from the rafters and clang onto the ground where Sans is dragged off the bed by the weight. He’s choking, the chain wrapped around his neck and between his ribs. His soul flutters wildly inside his chest, it drips red the color of his ecto-magic, exploding color from his ribcage._

 

_The client finishes on top of him. Pumping himself to get off while Sans makes incoherent whines and strangled moans. The video looks down upon both of them, catching everything in the room. The client leaves and Sans lies there convulsing into himself until another person enters- snaps his bones back in place and turns a hose onto full blast. It slams Sans against the back wall and fills every crevice of bone. Washing every sin down the drain in the center of the cemented room._

 

_Someone else comes in, replaces the bedsheets and the two leave together. Sans sits on the floor, sopping wet and sobbing. A bell tolls and another customer comes in. Leaving no time for him to recover. He’s wriggling, getting used to his limbs again, when they’re tied behind his head and forced to his knees._

 

_Praises sweep past him. Sans relishes in those praises, hollow eyes flicker with small sparks trying to reform. But the client fills the spot with their phallus before he gets the chance. Sans is panting, bobbing his head back and forth like it was the most natural thing to do._

 

And then the video closes. Papyrus hovers over the mouse and closes the entire workspace. The wallpaper of the kings symbol is the only thing left for Sans to balk at. Tears stream down his face.

 

“Dove?”

 

Sans is far away though. Repressed memories smack against his temples. He flinches and teeters as if he were actually there, reliving the memory. His eye lights disappear. Hollow,the same as the him in the video. Whether it’s from shock or a habit, Papyrus doesn’t know. He didn’t expect this kind of reaction from his pet.

 

He shakes his shoulders. “Dove?” No response. “Dove!”  He shook him again, grabbing both his forearms and wrestling them away from his pet's chest. He remained unresponsive, even as Papyrus wiped the tears from his face. “...”  The note felt heavy in his throat despite him not speaking yet but he manages a small whisper “...Sans.”

 

That suddenly gets a jerking reaction out of his dove.

 

His lithe hands press flat against Papyrus and push them both to the ground.Papyrus lands on his back with a groan, the swivel chair beneath him prods at his ribs.

 

Sans escapes in the other direction, clambering blindly on his hands and feet until he hits a corner and realizes he's trapped. He balls up and cries, whimpering to be let go.

 

Papyrus awkwardly stumbles out of his turned chair and, on his knees, slowly approaches the shaking skeleton.

 

“It’s okay, Dove.” He brushes away the others flailing limbs as they sporadically lash out to attack him. “It’s just a video… it’s already happened. I’d never hurt you… like that. You’re safe here. With me. Papyrus.”

 

“Paps?”

 

“Sure. Whatev-oof! He breaks for air when a headbut hits his chest. Suddenly his dove is wrapped around him, clinging onto him and crying into his clean white shirt. Papyrus carefully lowers his hand to pat his head. It soothed his pet for now. His whimpering lessened, though his grip got tighter. “...Grillby really fucked you up, huh?” He pet the side of his head, rubbing in circles over his skull.

 

His pet continued to tremble, minutes past without him returning to his senses. Papyrus heaved a sigh, and softly hummed a lullaby to his song bird. Though his nasally tone doesn't match the beauty of his Doves it still comforts Sans. They sit in the dark while Sans finishes crying. His eye lights slowly return, though puffy.

 

“You better, Dove?” Sans listlessly nods, he removes his hands from the crumpled fabric and mutters a low apology. He realizes he’s still bare, save for stockings, and a moment of panic flashes over his eyes. Papyrus is quick to shut it down. He pulls his chin forward and holds his hips in a sweeping arm. “It's just us… relax.”

 

… Sans heaves a breath and another. Calming himself just enough to realise where he is and who he’s hugging onto.

 

“Sorry.” He mumbles. “I thought… for a moment… you were going to hurt.. Me.”  Like he had tried to slice him in half with the scythe and kill him in the car. Like he had tortured him over and over again for a simple lullaby. The strange fact was that he felt safer with the bastard than with his own memories of anything else.

 

He had no home to return to. The boss, the maniac who kidnapped him had saved him from starving on the street. He’d saved him from Grillby finding him, because Grillby would have found him again. One way or another, and he’d be stuck in that hell forever. No, Papyrus… was safe. Even if he was dangerous in his own way. He wouldn’t… for no reason… hurt him.

 

“I… said I would-” He looks away  down between them to where his bare pelvic bone rode up against Papyrus’s zipper. “- fuck. For that file.” Sans gulps. “I don’t want to look at it anymore, so … a deals a deal. I’m … yours okay?”

 

“And I told you to get dressed.” Papyrus hums. “You were always mine… what made you think you had a choice in that deal, Dove. No. I didn’t want sex… especially not now when you're a mess of snot and tears. _I have standards._ No one hurts my pets but me. You’ll cry when I make you cry… anything else is- _unacceptable_.”  Sans drags his arm up to wipe at his nose. He gets to a leg to stand up, but his wrist is pulled back down making him stumble. Papyrus cringes and wipes snot off onto his pants. “But… as disgusting as you are… you’re still mine.”

 

He curls a finger around a hole on his sacrum and anchors Sans from getting away. “And you owe me… for a fucked up week, Dove.” He moves his hand away, to give Sans enough space to let his magic run through his bones and take shape. His ecto magic becomes firmer and solid between his legs, the moment it does Papyrus stands up. Sans hurriedly, afraid of falling, wraps both his legs around Papyrus and links his arms behind his neck.

 

A clash of ceramic smashes the ground as Papyrus slides it off the night table and lies Sans down on his back, kissing his thigh as he brought each one up over his shoulders. Sans lets out a small wine, that anxiety building in him again.

 

_Dont hurt me_

 

Papyrus could see it all over his pets face. The fear, the agitation. “Relax, Dove.” He tried to soothe him with small words of comfort but it had no effect. Especially not while he was trying to free himself from the blasted belt buckle.

 

His greed was too great, he wanted his Dove displayed for him. Only for him. But that disgusting video flashed in his mind. As it did with Sans. Papyrus huffed. He wanted to devour his dove right now… he waited long enough for it after all… but he also didn’t want to be the same monster on the video. He saw the panic in Sans and bent to kiss him, through his pants he gingerly rocked in place. Crashing into that hot warmth that cried out for him. It would be so worth it later… when his dove eagerly accepted him.

 

“You’re doing so good.” Papyrus hummed. “Are you afraid?”

 

Sans shook his head left and right. Their rhythm continued. Slow and impersonal. Papyrus was doing his best to be patient but thrusting against the tightness of his pants didn’t compare to the tight little hole he was longing for.

 

“Nnn- you… planning on...ghh… wearing your pants the whole time,Boss?” Sans panted. He was anxiously looking at the swollen heated mass of red tucked beneath the leather pants. “I’m… okay. You know?” He gulped back bile in his mouth and nodded his head again. “I’m ready, too.” His eyes squinted at the space between his legs. He was getting Papyrus covered in his juices.

 

“Idiot,” Papyrus groans. He thrust a few more times, dry, against Sans bones. “I don’t need you to tell me how to fuck. …” But in truth he was _scared._ Scared of becoming the same monster on the films. Scared of losing his doves trust. He knew that heat would draw him in and he wouldn’t stop until he was satisfied. His dove was broken, traumatised, by what Grillby’s whore house had done to him. Papyrus couldn’t rush him. He’d rush his dove before when pleasure had purely been onesided. _But this was different_. He wanted something else out of this. More than sex.

 

He towered over Sans, stretching his back into a curve so he could dip down and kiss the smaller skeleton. The response was instant, Sans kissed him back. The frail pink tongue exiting his mouth and locking with his own red appendage.

 

He pulls back briefly to finish undoing his pants and drops them to his ankles where he kicks them away to block the bedroom door. He leans back in, kissing up the side of the thigh high stockings…. Whispering - “ Ready?” His bones were craving this. He barely waits for the small nod from Sans, it acts as a the starting horn for him to thrust fully and deep into that tight warm cavern.

 

“-yuss oh. STars. Nghhh~” Sans’s fingers dig into the back of his neck. Clawing at him for a grip to stay upright as he was drilled into the nightstand. Slipped all the way in, Papyrus caught his breath. He looked down at his pet. Gasping, _twisting their hips_ up for friction and something about the image compelled him to laugh. The throaty laughter buckled through Sans, he jumps at the feeling and take sharp inhale to ask - “What the hell is so funny?!”

 

“Nothing…” Papyrus smirks. “Just that… a week ago you were _screaming for me to stop_ … and now… _you're clamping down_ so hard… I just..”

 

“Shu-SHUT up!”

 

“Yeah..” Papyrus ruts up inside of him, trying to get deeper than he already was. He wondered how much of his cock his dove could take but loses interest quickly, opting to continue and pull small mewls from Sans parted mouth. He pulls out, ready to slam again and again inside of his begging dove.  

 

They began a pattern. Papyrus pulled out, and Sans clawed at his neck hips thrusting up to meet him again as he rolled his hips flush with bone. The sharp clack marked the limits of how far they could meet each other's thrust. A wet slap of their magic came together and spackled the night table in their juice.

 

“I’m close…” Papyrus warned. He’d given up on a rhythm and just jutted his hips up in haptic friction. He drug his pet towards him with every pulpy upshot. He wouldn’t allow Sans a pause and Sans didn’t scream out for it. His knees trembled, crossing over Papyrus to pull him close.

 

His cream spills into Sans with a harsh cry and he stays connected with him. Not allowing a single drop to spill to the floor. While all Sans can do is drool and stutter in ecstasy. His orgasm following a moment later when semen spilled inside him and stuffed him to the brim.

 

The moist, slick, sounds of their bodies continue to hump against each other. Until Papyrus lets out a raspy breath and falls forward, sheathing himself fully inside of his pet.

 

“Why… didn’t -fff- we do it on the bed?” Sans’ s legs trembled, he couldn’t keep his grip on Papyrus anymore and fell back onto the night table, its edge grinding itself against his spine.

 

Papyrus groaned. He picked up his dove again, weighing practically nothing and slammed them down against the bed, earning a small yelp as his cock rocked against a particularly sensitive set of overused nerves. He lied them in bed, spreading what remained from his leaking seed over the blankets.

 

“Its morning, dove… we should take a shower.” a small groan of protest met him and for once the rebellion in his pet didn’t agitate him. Sans felt tired, his limbs sore and his head hurt. He clung onto Papyrus and closed his eyes.

 

“I know its morning… but do you think. I could sleep a bit longer, Boss?”

 

“Of course…” Papyrus pulled him to lie beside him on the mattress and laid a kiss on top of Sans’s head. “My sweet, Dove.” Sans smirks. Dove wasn’t so bad… he thinks. He closes his eyes and lays in the scent of Papyrus. It felt safe, warm, nostalgic…  He faintly hears the maids call them for breakfast but he and Boss don’t make any attempt to move. He listens to Boss’s soul beat through his chest  and he falls back asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so - this is summary for sfw peeps. 
> 
> \---  
> Paps is awake in the room while Sans is already asleep. He turns to the computer to get work done through the night. Previously Paps had agreed to to Grillby's paperwork so he could get info on his Dove. He gets access to online folders and finds video of Sans with his clients. He spends hours working and is about to turn in to sleep but sees his dove sleeping peacefully. He gets possessive of who owns Sans ( bc Grillby owned him before) and decides to wake Sans so that he can engrave his full name on his sternum. He asks Sans to strip and come close but he wields a bone blade which Sans immediately thinks is a weapon and cowers. Through some makeshift trust he returns to Paps side and allows him to chisel at the bone. Sans finds the treatment to be too easy and fears his usefulness is coming to an end. He meekly attempts to redress, dissapointed that his role was complete but sees himself on the computer monitor. He finds out they are sent from Grillby and they record the time he was imprisoned as a prostitute. Since Sans has no memory of this, the videos must have valuable information to fill in the blank in his memories. He opts to trade himself for information, attempting to play at Papyrus's desires to win a brief glimpse at the video. His body is his only leverage he can use and exploits Papys needs so he can fulfill a purpose. 
> 
> Paps sees right through the horrible seduction attempt ( Sans has done this before to attempt to stab him and run away on several occasions) He realizes his dove wants the video file and to tease Sans he plays it for both of them. Video reveals far worse physical abuse than what Papyrus has done to him before- one being maimed and raped while video Sans is suspended by chains. As soon as one client is done another enters, Papyrus and Sans watch the video until Paps gets sickened and closes it. He realizes Sans is traumatized by what he saw and remembering the experiences from the tape. Sans has a breakdown and cries, and Papyrus shows his caring side by hugging him though his meltdown. Ensuring him everything is alright now, he acknowledges Grillby really messed up his Dove mentally. 
> 
> Sans stops crying, remembering he swore to have sex to see the tape and tries to do that. Papyrus nags him for being a sorry mess, claims he has standards, but just as quickly starts to defile Sans and throws him onto the night table so they can do the do. Sans is somewhat willing out of obligation but Paps sees how fearful he is and slows down, saying nice words to Sans to comfort him through a panic attack. Sans relishes in the praise and starts to like what they're doing. Paps teases him but Sans is enjoying this for the first time ever. Afterwards they realize they could have done it on the bed, instead of the hard table but they are too exhausted to argue or shower and sleep together.


	6. Breakfast and talk slow

Peacefully, Sans opened his eyes to see the warm hues of sunlight awash the cabin bedroom.  He didn't remember a time he had felt so rested.  Something felt nice about actually sleeping on a bed for once. It was soft,  not like the gaping cage bars that stuck out into each of his shoulderblades. Nor was it as confining as the oval metal cage floor he had to curl around to find comfort in. 

 

He’d slept on his stomach, surprised his ribs did not ache from his own body pressure. He’d slept soundly, surrounded by the warm blankets entwined around him.  It was a common luxury he’d been deprived of for so long and dour, he had begun to think he would never obtain it again. Yawning,  tears beaded on the edge of his sockets.He didn’t mind sleeping longer and he hoped no one would bother him if he did. So he bent back down to the edge of body warmth he’d been lieing into.  

 

_ Body warmth? _

 

Sans peers open his eyes to stare outward at his pillow. He had been sleeping on Boss. A panic starts to erupt from his throat, burning at the nape of his neck were swollen letters were scribbled into him. His eye sockets go wide, sleep forgotten as he tries to recollects last night.  _ When he and  Boss  _ —Sans shuddered at the memory— _ ... hugged.  _

 

He brushed a hand against his cheek, shock and humiliation swept through his bones from still feeling that depressing dampness. Tears. 

 

He was crying so much and Boss held him. It was the first time the boss probably pitied him, stars knows that the warped bastard had no remorse for those months of torture. But a single breakdown from something that he didn’t cause and his captor doted upon him like a mother goose. Holding him so close~   

 

He flushed at the thought of them being so close. He’d been wrecked last night— with emotion. To let the enemy so close wasn’t part of the plan. Sans just wanted to use his  _ ass _ ets to gather more information. He didn’t expect to cry all night and sleep so close to the insane fickle bastard who couldn’t decide whether he wanted to hurt Sans or protect him. 

 

He leant back on the mattress without a creak, the crisp linen was the only sound from his movement. He sluggishly made his way to the edge of the bed and slipped a toe down from the sheets to touch the cold hardwood floor. He jumped at the chill but persisted, placing his sole flush against the planks. 

 

Finally leaving the warmth of the bed he shuddered in the open air, forgetting his clothing had been stripped so the other could mark his bones - _ with his damned name.  _ Sans looked down upon the etching, doing his best to read the inverted letters that spelled ‘Papyrus’. It came as no surprise to him that his captor would be sick enough to engrave his name in his property. 

 

On the floor, among the items haphazardly thrown to the ground in their tussle, are his and Boss’s clothes. He picks up the silk shirt in two hands, not sparing a doubt on whether or not the shirt would fit him. His arms easily slide through the sleeves though it sat baggy on his small stature. Anything was better than the nightmare of dresses, Sans kicked the dress beneath the bed to emphasize that hate. Out of sight, out of mind. 

 

Or so he wanted to think but a drop of sweat beads on his brow. If the dress was suddenly ‘ _ lost’ _ it wasn’t likely the Boss would let him dress in proper clothes. Hell, when they had left the manor the only thing he took with him was the clothes on his back, Sans, and three—now two— maids.  There wasn’t any clothes to spare for Sans and if the thick lace dress suddenly  _ disappeared _ … well Boss would probably be happy with that outcome wouldn’t he?  Letting Sans walkabout nude…

 

Something like  ‘ _ Oh dear~ What a shame my poor dove has no clothes to wear. I guess you’ll have to wear this apron we found.” _

 

If an apron was even an option…. Probably not. 

 

Sans bit his lip and got to his hands and knees to pull the dress back out from under the bed. In the short time it had been down there it had accumulated countless dust bunnies and fluff from beneath the bed. The spider maid had only done a surface level clean for them the first night. He drew in a breath and shook the dress out, suddenly caring for the damn garb. 

 

_ Garb. More like Garb-age. Pfft.  _

 

The sound escapes from his front teeth and he has to hurriedly clasp a hand over himself to shush his small laugh. Couldn't let the Boss know he was up… 

 

He lays the dress across the back of a desk chair and dares to walk out into the living room in only the Boss’s shirt and black leggings.His hand remains on the handle, suddenly conscious of others. Two maids had taken residence with them. Had they heard the loud cries he made last night? Had they come in to clean while he and boss were sleeping?  _ Hell, _ he couldn’t even imagine the mortified looks of the maids when they would see him. 

 

He hitched a breath. 

 

Okay. He would play it cool. Avoid eye contact. Its not like those two were innocent. They knew the type of dark, manipulative, sadistic, sick fuck  their employer was. At dinner they had shown no interest when he was forced to sing, or kiss, or be fed by Boss.  They were stoic, dutiful—

 

He opened the door, standing in place when the two turned out to look at him. They sat at the breakfast nook, coffee and magazines in their hands. Their conversation stilted when Sans entered and all eyes fell upon the oversized silk shirt of their Boss. 

 

—evil little whences who gawked openly with their chins upturned as though they were a higher class than him and he was no more than a common whore. A passing waste of time for their employer and less than a monster. They judge him. Study him. Women are scary… 

 

“Would you care for breakfast sir, dove?” The mouse woman speaks first.

 

Sans inwardly cringed. He couldnt tell if that was meant to be sarcastic or polite. True… no one really asked his name and Boss only referred to him as dove, and pet… but there remained a sour note of mockery in her tone. She was making fun of him. 

 

The mousey woman had the tongue of a snake. And the spider woman sips her morning coffee served in a teacup. Thinly veiled smile on her lips as she withheld a laugh. She pats the seat beside her with one of her many arms. 

 

“Come. Have a seat, dearie. Nezu will serve you some  _ more _ warm milk.”

 

The other snorts, disguises it as a sneeze quickly by covering her mouth with a handkerchief. Sans grimaced… They  _ were _ making fun of him.  

 

Whatever, they could think whatever they wanted about him. It didn’t make a difference. Anything their perverted minds conjured had probably already happened once or twice before. He didn’t exactly look professional right now anyway. He was grateful the Boss’s clothes hung long on him, hiding the fact he wasn’t wearing anything below. 

 

Sans huffed. This was embarrassing, but less humiliating than what Boss had done to him other times. And besides… he sort of missed other people. Stars… how long had it been since he heard another monster's voice? Outside of his attempted escape, it had only ever been Boss. Sometimes he’d hear hushed whispers of the maids in the hall or when they changed his bedding. Speaking to him was somehow forbidden. Perhaps Boss thought it would raise his dove's self esteem from pet to actual fucking person. 

 

He glances between the mouse woman he associated with the name ‘Nezu’ and the spider woman. Making sure both were done with their morning jokes. They could have this moment.  At least the change was nice. Voices were nice, even mocking, Sans had decided. Nezu, with her white clothing and dominance in the kitchen yesterday, was obviously a chef and the one who had made breakfast. In his silence she decides to move away from the table and begin to load up a plate for him. With or without his agreement, she at least, had some decency of kindness. His stomach suddenly considers her a friend. 

 

At least, someone more respectable than the other maid. 

 

The spider woman whom he had met briefly during his escape, eyes him with her numerous black pupils. Each eye seems to blink individually, ensuring Sans was never let out of her sight. Great~ It wasn’t enough there two more people keeping watch over him but now there was six pairs of eyes he had to be wary of in his next escape. … If it was even possible knowing they were deep in the woods, miles from any city. 

 

She pats the chair again. “Come, dear, you don’t need permission to eat at the  _ big girls  _ table.”

 

Sans never assumed he needed permission, but hearing it out loud suddenly struck him with the thought.  What if Boss would get angry for him not waiting for his meal. Boss fed him by hand, this was arguably one of Boss’s favorite things to do with his pet. … Maybe he should wait. Until Boss woke up. And he should thank the ladies and refuse. No wait… what if speaking without permission was also a nono? What if he couldn’t act at all without Boss’s permission? He should have stayed in bed, until he was told to get up. Yes, he needed to retreat and pretend he was sleeping. He could lie down in bed with that bastard and catch some more sleep. At least then he could be sure punishment wouldn’t -

 

“Oh for the love of-! Muffet, you broke him. Sir Dove, take a seat. When the master is busy us two are in charge. And we are charged with your well being. Please eat, it would reflect poorly on me if you became thinner than you are now… You’re all bones.”

 

Sans cracks a small smile. Point two for mousey. 

 

He carefully closes the bedroom door behind him and nervously sits at the table. A platter is served to him and the maids adopt their judgemental silence. Sipping coffee and reading magazines, slipping a glance at Sans as he ate. 

 

Stacked at the foot of the front door are suitcases and grocery bags that have yet to be unpacked. Someone stopped by to deliver those goods and disappeared in the middle of the night. Sans lost another chance to find a car and escape. No matter, he’d find a way. He definitely would-

 

But… what if he didn’t? 

 

… 

 

No~ no!  Sans shook the thought from his head. A mixture of fear and laziness did not mean he was content to stay here. Sure he had no life before this… none he can remember outside of a rough orphaned childhood in the underground but- 

 

Um… 

 

Well. No monster should have to be treated like an object, a toy! Obviously he still had to escape somehow…  He’d have to find a city. Find police. Beg for help. But wait...If he was an item could he be returned to his owner? And Even still… if he did escape Grillby and Boss… What then? He had no place to stay. 

 

To pay for rent, he could get a job… doing what?... Flipping burgers? Thats a laugh.  He’d make more money if he tried selling himself. And then it would all come full circle wouldn’t it? 

 

He stabs at a grape on his plate, making the fruit leap from his plate and fly into the living room. Eyes suddenly focus on him. The maids look up. 

 

“S..sorry.” He meekly apologized. “Nerves..”  They pretend to ignore him again and Sans lowered his eyes to his breakfast. Things were simpler when he just lived day by day in the streets. Making money by pick-pocketing adults and stealing watches.  He’d pawn what he could and ensure he could get a decent meal for his little Paps. 

 

He lived for that kid. Every week he would get beat up close to death and manage to run away. He always ran, returning back to their same spot in the caverns. …He should go back there. Sans stared at his fork. 

 

There were few monsters still left in the underground. It was familiar to him. He knew it well enough like the back of his hand. A hand… now embalmed with riddles of text and scratches. He could go back to his and his brothers old cave and live life relatively peaceful there. He’d be able to visit his brother too. It had been much too long.

 

Maybe the underground was less dangerous now that monsters had taken to the surface… there would be no one left to fight. But food, crops would be left behind in abundance. … Mount Ebott seemed like such a faraway dream. His kind had come out of the shadows into the light and here Sans was, wanting to return to those gross depths that he was raised in. 

 

Well… if he could manage that anyway. Who knew how far the mountain was from where they were. Would he still be able to see its silhouette on the horizon? He didn’t have any memory of seeing it before. There was nothing he knew of that would distinguish it from other mountains…

 

“...Are..um” He hesitated to raise his voice around the two. This felt knew, talking to someone besides his Boss… “Are you two from the surface?Or-”

 

“Nope~Born and raised in Hotland.”

“Snowdin for me. Are you a surface monster Sir, Dove?” 

 

“N...no.” That was weird. No one had ever thrown a question back at him like that. Like… a conversation. “I’m from Waterfall” He says excitedly. Then after a moment he has to correct himself, each time his tone growing more and more distant, shameful. “But also New haven…  and caustic caverns… and the ruins...and the dump. We… we.. moved around a lot…”

 

“We? Oh, you had siblings? Tough crabapples. Guess they all bit the dust huh?” It was a bit too on the nose for Sans to respond with a real answer. He nodded his head, filling his mouth as an excuse for his sudden silence. 

 

“Oh~Good Morning Sir Papyrus! Did you sleep well?” 

“Papums, you look positively glowing~ Lost your shirt? Dreadful.”

Sans turned his head towards one of the bedroom doors, where Boss emerged- shirtless and red soul pulsing softly within the cage of his ribs. He yawns, nodding to each maid and shifting from foot to foot as he tries to pull up his pants again. Couldn’t be bothered to get a belt. 

 

Which is weird to Sans. Its strange to see Boss look… slovenly. Usually the skeleton was more precise with his choice in attire. Every detail from socks to cuffs was usually planned out. He takes a few steps to the kitchen, having each maid stand and bow to him. Muffet gets on her feet and switches sides of the table to let him sit closer to his pet. 

 

How considerate… Sans could barf. 

 

“G..goodmorning Boss.” He chimes in, same as the maids he gives Papyrus his full attention and the skeleton comes to sit beside him. Served the same meal as Sans, but he doesn't touch it. Instead he waves for a cup of coffee and joins their conversation. 

 

“The underground was hell. Kill or be killed. Dust and ruin. Let's not ruin the morning with talk of the dead. We’re on the surface. Sun is shining. Birds are singing.. Flowers blooming… Coffee pouring…pouring… stop. Little milk. Thanks, hun.”

 

He takes a long sip, much to the maids curious observation as coffee past his lips and didn’t drip into his chest cavity. Though his soul starts to fade, flickering back to its hidden status. Sans wondered what caused it to form. It certainly hadn’t been meaningful had it? Then it was brought out under stress?

 

He stood up, his cup empty, announced he needed forty more minute sleep and to be woken at the appropriate time and slammed the door closed behind him. Sans hadn’t seen Boss’s normal waking pattern, but he could tell there was some routine in how the maids reacted to him. 

 

“We mustn't talk about these things so openly, sir Dove.” Nezu whispers. “He gets awfully depressed hearing about it.”

 

“Yeah,” Muffet chimes in. “He only talks to Grill face about that stuff. He and the torch sometimes drink to it but there are still scars. Its good he can glow around you. Maybe you should go cheer him up, ya know. Like a good pet.”

 

Sans bites back the slew of curses from being demoted down to pet again. “What happened to him? I mean, I liked the underground. Mostly.” 

 

The maids look at each other than at Sans. Each of their voices battling with each other to talk through the chaos of the others speech. 

 

“Its his lvl hun.” 

“He’s way too strong.”

“He has a boss status.Right?”

“He’s a judge and executioner.”

“I heard rumors back then.”

“He was all over the news.”

“He murdered his friends.” 

“He killed the guard.” 

“The captain was slaughtered.”

“Then he usurped the king.”

“He and Grillby single handedly destroyed the underground.”

“They opened the portal by becoming stronger than the magic seal.”

“He left only children.”

“He saved my life!”

“He signed my backpack.”

“He created countless jobs for monster kind.”

“He did it all to find a way to cheat death.”

“Some say he went mad.”

“Kept wandering around the echo flowers.”

“Whispering.”

“Chanting.”

“Begging.” 

“Praying.” 

“We dont really ask.” 

“He wouldnt tell us any way.”

“So we dont talk about it. At least not in front of him.”

“Dudes got issues.”

“He’s overworked.”

“He’s a hero.” 


	7. Ashes to Ashes.. Dust to Dust

“He’s a creep.

He’s a freak.

He’s an asshole.” 

 

Sans joins, much to the annoyance of both maids. They seem to have a high esteem for their employer and having such blatant rudeness thrown in their face make both freeze. How can someone not have heard of the Great and Terrible Papyrus?! To call the savior of monsterkind a freak, an asshole, a creep…. That was practically treason to their own kind! 

 

“What kind of rock have you been living under? How can you refer to the Great Papyrus as a… freak?! Don’t you understand how amazing he is?”

 

“Let it go, Nezu. He’s just a pet. And if the master tolerates him we will too.” 

 

“BUT-” The mouse woman openly points at Sans, gaping for non existent words as if simply pointing at Sans was proof she was right. Sans stares back, suddenly shocked by their outrage.  How could the only two people he just met, hate him? What if they don’t talk to him anymore? 

 

They would pass by him… like the other workers. Cleaning without making eye contact, silent lipped and dutiful to their employer. Sans would call them and they wouldn’t respond. Forget a cage; it was like he was trapped in a glass case! No one could hear him beg for help… no one could hear him cry or hurt… just because he rightfully complained about the man who kidnapped him. He would forever be closed off from people.

 

He couldn’t go back to being alone. 

 

“No- no!” Sans quickly says. He had to defend himself, any lie, any doubt he could plant in them he would use to his advantage! If there was one thing Sans was good at -it was talking. He persuaded monsters in the underground to let him go, flirted his way to mercy despite feeling the wretch of vomit cling to the inside of his mouth. This was no different. Even though the surface was calmer than the underground it was still a battle field. Still a place to be wary of. He held his breath tight in his chest. Feeling the knot in his throat. 

 

“I didn’t mean to offend you or -...the great and terrible Papyrus. It’s just… I uh.  I don’t know him that well…. and … the only time he ever wants something from me is to sing or-” His mind flits to that instance they were so close.. Papyrus touching his soul in the library. Papyrus curving his body to his bedside. Papyrus holding him so tight last night… 

 

“or…”That lump in his throat grew bigger. He couldn’t say it.  He couldn’t admit to doing anything with Papyrus by his own will. It wasn’t … completely horrible. No, there had been much worse in his life right?  Maybe? And.. well, it actually felt good sometimes and when Papyrus massaged his soul to recover his hp, well-  Sans was a drooling mess of pleasure. He was butter, melted in Papyrus’s arms. He probably would have enjoyed himself more if he wasn’t trying to stab the lunatic at the time. 

 

Those ministrations weren’t bad… but they weren’t good either. The last time it had been a comfort, something Sans initiated on his own… slow and warm… careful.  

 

“- or” Sans struggles to finish his sentence, his face going red as he faces both the maids waiting in anticipation. They already know what he’s going to say, he wasn’t going to earn their support by being shy of the concept of sex.  “Or hit me.” He pauses to swallow, unsure of how he could end that in a better way. He vehemently hides his embarrassment behind anger, letting part of that anguish leak though.

 

“He hits me all the time! Sometimes he doesn’t even feed me. I’ve been sitting in a cage day after day… just waiting for something bad to happen to me. I hated it. I wanted to escape! You saw me try! But I-... “ He grows quiet, there's nothing but scraps on his plate. Nothing left for him to pick with or distract himself from the running jargon of his own mind.

 

“He’s too strong… insanely strong. I can’t beat him. Hell, I can’t even hit him. And its not fair cuz he’s able to hit me whenever he wants… with or without weapons he’s terrifying! You guys tell me he’s a hero but he’s only been unkind to me. I can’t see him as anything else. Is he just mean to me? Does he hate me? Did I do something wrong? Before the escapes… before I got captured… did I do something bad? Had we met before?” 

 

_ …...Oh shit.  _  His mind conjured its own answers to fill the blanks. 

 

_ … Was Papyrus once a customer?...Yes, he had to be. Of course he was!  _ Sans can’t help the pinpricks of tears building up in his eyes.  _ Papyrus knew Grillby… how could he be such an idiot and not put together those dots? _

 

“-sometimes he looks at me like he’s in a different time. But I don't see it often enough. It's only when I’m crying that he looks at me weird. Like I’m a broken thing!  He’s cruel. He’s mean to me! So if you tell me he’s nice… “ 

 

Does that mean Boss really does hate him? Abuse him for something he did in the past in a drugged haze? Did he maybe bite Papyrus? Or maybe this was some sick fantasy he got off on? Was it Sans’s fault or was Papyrus actually kind. Had he never seen it before? Maybe… maybe Papyrus was actually good. And Sans was the one who was bad. He wrecked his home, stole his car, refused to sing, fought at every opportunity. He once shoved soap in Papyrus’s eye socket because he was trying to bathe him. Was Sans the one with issues? Causing problems for someone who only did nice things?

 

Boss said that once.  _ ‘You know I don't want to hurt you,  dove. You force my hand. If you only sang I wouldn’t have to hurt you…’ _

 

Sans trembled the silence of the maids bothers him. He needed answers. He needed someone to clarify something he knew couldn’t possibly be true. There was no way that Papyrus was a savior to monster kind. He was anything but a saint! He was a monster in every intention of the word and yet… Sans couldn’t stop his voice from shaking. He needed to know. 

 

“Is he really nice? Is that really true?! Can he be nice to me too? Does he treat you two nice???” 

 

“Sir Papyrus is the greatest! He’s always kind and respectful! He’s given us a new life!”

“None of us would be around if it weren’t for him protecting monster kind from humans.”

 

But was that true?

 

Sans felt so confused. He’d been kidnapped, been forced against his will to do whatever Boss wanted… yet. Yesterday Boss held him, sang to him, though his panic attack. Boss was so gentle and kind to him. He looks over his shoulder at the closed bedroom door, maybe he could wrangle answers from the source. 

 

“Thank you for breakfast.” He pushes himself from the table and teeters back to the bedroom door, holding it halfway open as he prepared himself to step through. Its still dark, curtains closed and monitor off. Boss lied in bed, pillow thrown over his head to mute out noise. Sans looked back over at the lively kitchen, the maids resuming their conversation like he had already left.  So Sans stepped through, letting the heavy wooden door seal him inside. 

 

###  \--

 

“B...boss?” He calls the other in a hushed voice, afraid to wake him if somehow in the last few minutes he’d crashed into a deep sleep. Sans taps his finger tips  together, nervously waiting for a response.

 

It wasn’t unlikely that Papyrus had already fallen back asleep… but after drinking a whole cup of coffee it seemed he just wanted time to himself. As shown when an arm raises and slaps the side of the bed.  He wanted Sans to sit with him but Sans refused to move. 

 

This was the lions den. Before he made himself comfortable in his nest, Sans had to be sure he wouldn’t be attacked. So he swallowed a lump in his throat and spoke up past his nerves. 

 

“Boss… are you… upset?”        No answer.       “You uh… left without breakfast.”

 

Papyrus’s hand raises and slams back down to the side of the bed again, beckoning him in such a slovenly way. Sans was not a dog. He was not going to follow the hand that allowed him to sit on the bed and eagerly jump to his master's side. Sans had standards. He had respect for himself! 

 

He timidly steps forward, regardless. 

 

He approached the bedside, still wary of sitting but trying his best to uphold some sense of communication. After the maids had given him the joy of conversation he didn’t want to lose it again. He felt nervous talking to Boss, but if he really was as kind as the others said… maybe Papyrus would humor his small talk. 

 

But Sans wasn’t an idiot, as much as he hoped Boss would be nice to him he knew for a fact the bastard was dangerous. He is careful for any sharp movements or the hum of magic forming in the room. Boss doesn’t respond to him, but he wasn’t yelling for him to shut up. Maybe...a little friendly chat wouldn’t hurt.

 

“I got to talk to the maids… um one of them… her name was Nezu, she uh.. She’s a really good cook. And she’s nice. And um Muffet is also okay. …. …. … “ Sans taps his fingertips together, his feet swung out on the side of the bed. 

 

Boss wasn’t replying, but beyond his brooding silence Sans also felt this was out of place. There was no reason for them talking. Things had already been said in curses and screams. This right now… this artificial peace…

 

This felt awkward. 

 

Odd, compared to their normal screaming fest. So what had changed to make the tone shift so much? Sans sat upon the edge of the bed, far from the hand patting the spot beside him, it felt like a trap to sit that far in on the bed. He’d slept there all night without being disturbed but in the daylight hours it felt off. 

 

They spent one night together… it wasn’t   _ completely _ horrible and boss helped him through a panic attack, but it didn’t mean they were suddenly friends. Sans pauses. This might have been the first time he actually wanted to talk to boss. He didn’t do so out of a necessity to vent his anger or beg for something. He just… wanted to talk. Maybe that's why the act felt so awkward, it was something new.

 

He  _ wanted _ to talk to boss. 

 

Funny how that worked. He wanted to talk and now he had nothing to say. Nothing to complain about; he’d eaten well, slept well, been treated well… so far. He worried this  place would be worse but there's yet to be a backlash for his escape. It seemed Papyrus had no intent to punish him for wrecking the manor. Here he was free from that cage, free to walk around inside the cabin… a slightly bigger-  _ more accommodating _ \- cage. 

 

Yes, that is what he wanted to talk about. 

 

He fumbles around for a few words because Sans has no idea how to express how good it felt this morning to wake up on a bed. How great it felt to stretch his legs and walk somewhere. He didn’t want to admit, that for a moment, he forgot how to use a fork but he was glad to go to breakfast as he pleased and not wait for a meal. The sunlight outside the window filtered through the house. It was warm, inviting, even behind the thick curtains it streamed out in areas and gave proof it existed. It wasn’t just some lingering trick of light from the distance. It was close, it was real… he was outside and though the cabin smelled like timber and smoke it smelled fresh and open! It didn’t smell of moldy books and that crisp library scent mixed with that faint body odor hanging off him.  _  Well- _ he still smelled that, but it wasn't pungent like in the days he’d spend sitting on the same goddamn spot. 

 

Being here was a result of his escape… but it had given him more freedoms than limitations. Was he _ ever  _ a prisoner? Somehow he wanted to thank Boss, but he bites his own tongue to quiet himself. His mind isn’t right, his mind feels jumbled but he can’t just take what the maids said at face value. 

 

He knew the true abuser Boss was.

 

He knew his wrath, his whims, his fetishes, and his sick mind. He would question Papyrus. Casual chat be damned, he was on a mission now. Sans shook his head from side to side. 

 

This wasn’t a friendly chat, for the sake of his sanity, he had to look for discrepancies in his story, look for chips in his  _ saint-like  _ armor. 

 

“They were telling me about you and the underground. So, did you really- ” 

 

“Don’t talk about that. Come here.” Papyrus interrupts him, disturbing what little resolve Sans had made. Though, the blow to his confidence was a little less while Boss was mumbling into a pillow Sans still sucks in a breath to calm his temper. He’d just earned the nerve to dig at the questions plaguing him and already it had been shut down. 

 

The underground wasn’t a topic, okay, he’d just have to word his questions differently. 

 

“Did you bring monsters to the surface?”

 

A scoff, muffled against pillows sounds like a fart. “Of course I did, are you an idiot?” Sans bites his teeth tight. Insults now? Is that where they stood? It was better than being hit across the face but - _ an idiot?!   _  Somehow that wounded deeper than scars. His mind was his only asset. 

 

For a moment, Sans considers baring his weight down on the pillow over the other's face. He could snuff the life out of him and who knows… maybe it might work. Maybe it won't. Nah it definitely won’t work. He had to stop getting riled up over every silly thing. He breathes deeply and tries to talk low and level, knowing by now that yelling only rewarded him with violence. If he wanted to speak freely he had to speak without that tone of anger.  

 

“I’m not an idiot. I don't know this stuff. I’ve spent half my life in a single room... comforting strangers.”

 

Papyrus grunts. He rolls on his side and comes to face Sans, looking up at him from the mattress. “Pet, even in those in Grillby’s circle of whores know about the great and terrible Papyrus. How is it that you don’t know-” His own words seem to waken him. He sits up and looks at Sans. “…  _ you didn’t know who I was? _ ”

 

“How could I be expected to… you kidnapped me and demanded me to call you boss, _ Boss _ .” Sans scowls, he doesn't hide the grimace in his voice this time. Despite how confused he felt, he knew this to be true. He wouldn’t forget or forgive it. 

 

This was a fact he faced when he had tried to kill Papyrus. It didn’t matter who this monster was. He’s a  _ monster _ … he abused him for months. He’d never forgive that. His identity didn’t matter. His actions made him the person he was.  It didn’t matter how much the maids praised him, or how fragile Boss looked while lying on his side… Sans wouldn’t put his captor on a pedestal. 

 

He just wanted to understand. If everyone said Boss was nice then why was he tormenting Sans all that time?  _ Did… I do something wrong? _ Maybe those punishments were  _ deserved _ … but what if they weren’t? 

 

Papyrus gives him a long stare, making his silence uncomfortable. He was looking for something in Sans’s eyes as if the answer would be written on his forehead. 

 

“You weren’t there when the barrier was broken?” Sans shakes his head. “When was the first time you saw the sun?”

 

The sun? Sans thought back to the day. There were so few days he remembered… and the events between those days were always a blur. Few and far between. Times when the drugs wore thin and Grillby would pry open his mouth and force more pills on him.  Those memories were less a nightmare and more a reality now, something tangible in his history he didn’t want to remember. Once, he’d caught a glimpse of the sun when he was being transported outside. He didn’t know why he was being moved. But he saw the sun setting on the horizon, the last beautiful orange rays of light…

 

When he had escaped from Grillby he’d seen the sun time and time again. It was the only thing that warmed his bones while he was homeless, scattering around for shelter… Still trying to come to terms with where he was. Who he was. His conscious mind was there but so many pieces were missing. 

 

He’d never forget the first human he saw. She was a tall adult, wearing heels and a white suit. She didn’t even spare Sans a glance,  _ ha,  _ she was late to work. But maybe that wasn’t the first human he met. Maybe there had been humans mixed among his clientele. Sick bastards who wanted the thrill of trying something new. 

 

“Mn?..Can’t remember, dove?”

 

“Not really.” 

 

“... Yeah me too. I didn’t even spend my first day on the surface like everyone else. … They camped out on the hillside and I went back.” Sans is about to ask what he means but already Papyrus cuts him off and lies down. The mattress rises and falls, making Sans bounce in place. “You’re so noisy today, Dove. So chatty. Why don’t you sing a song for me.” 

 

“But you're the one who-”

 

“Sing.” 

 

The word makes Sans shutter into himself.They are not said with anger but it still acted as a trigger for Sans. Right or wrong, he knew that word was coupled with sharp hits or sexual advances. He bites back his tongue for the moment and simply obeys.

 

“ _ A ovium amisit...quia ascendens in montem. _ ” Sans starts,the words flow from his mouth without him paying much mind to it. He doesn’t even appreciate the lyrics anymore. They’re just sounds to him, but the lullaby seems to have a deeper effect on the other. Papyrus closes his eyes and tries to imagine another time. His brow un-knits, his face resets, the song has a calming presence to him. He looks so at rest… so defenseless. Not at all like the cruel tormentor Sans knows he is. 

 

Not at all like the cruel tormentor Sans  _ thought  _ he was. 

 

Face to face with the monster who hid under a pillow, Sans searched those features for something mean. But Papyrus looked meek, without his normal wrath or gnarling voice calling out demands…the stillness of fatigue made him look helpless. ‘Sing’ wasn’t a command. It was a  _ plea.  _

 

Sans takes a good look at those deep sunken eyes and wonders if, like the maids claimed, this monster was  _ good _ . He didn’t look the part. Not with long jagged teeth, sharpened fingers, a scar on his face, and a friggin scythe that almost claimed Sans’s life.  But- now he wonders. Was that darkness only shown to Sans because he was a burden? A pain in the others ass? Maybe?

 

He suddenly wanted to pet at the monsters scared skull. An injury, not a battle scar. Boss just looked so fragile… weak and soft… that Sans had thought his bones might be soft as well. Some compulsion drew him to doing it and Sans berated himself for being strange. 

 

This was his enemy. No matter what the maids said. No matter how confused Sans felt. He knew that he shouldn’t ever feel familiar with this monster but… 

 

Sans extended his hand towards the monster, feeling the coolness of his forehead against his fingertips. Those sharp red eyes snap open at the sensation, piercing at him. Questioning with narrowed eyes, ‘ _ what the hell do you think you're doing?’  _  But Sans doesn't retreat, drawing his hands to skull, he brushes his fingers across the bone. When he meets up with the crack, Papyrus visibly flinches, capturing Sans’s wrist in one quick motion. 

 

“Does it still hurt?”

 

“... keep singing, dove.” Papyrus’s eyes drift lazily back, his grip is slack now but he doesn’t release the hand he’d taken. 

 

“How did you get it?” Sans asked outloud. He bent slightly, pressing his body to the bed now that his hand was being held at an awkward angle. 

 

“... sing, dove.” 

 

“Not until you answer me. Tell me about how you broke the barrier. Tell me about Grillby. Tell me about the first time you saw..or didn't see the sun… Tell me anything. Please. I want to understand.”

 

“Understand what?”

 

Sans bites his lip. To be honest with himself. He didn’t know either. What was his aim? What was his purpose? Boss and him rarely talked.  Conversation was usually sparring matches between who could yell higher before Sans’s will was ultimately shattered and his body broken. It was a cycle beat into him. Raising his voice was bad. Even if sometimes he wanted to vent and scream to the heavens… Boss would make him scream louder if he tried. 

 

He wanted to understand what  _ drove _ this monster. Papyrus.  Why was Boss such an asshole to him? Why did everyone else speak so highly of Papyrus. How did he… become this way?  _ How did such a sweet, innocent, child grow to be…   _

 

_ Pffffft. It didn’t matter.   _

What mattered was self preservation. Sans wanted to know who he was dealing with…  not who he once was.  He needed to know something about his captor other than how he liked Sans displayed in dresses and craved lullabies meant for toddlers. He wanted to know his relationship to Grillby and if they were partners… then was Papyrus a frequent visitor? Sans would never find freedom between the two of them, but perhaps Papyrus was the lesser of two evils.  

 

“...Close your eyes and keep singing for me, Dove.” 

 

Sans shakes his head. Of all the stupid times he’s refused to sing before this one actually had meaning.Perhaps Papyrus sees that too. Though he’s tired of talking about the past he sits up, looking intimidating for all of four seconds where Sans starts to regret denying the Boss of his dumb song. But Papyrus sits up and spreads his lanky legs,  patting the space between them to call Sans over with his demanding voice.  “Sit.” 

 

Sans crawled over to him without hesitation, perhaps because he’d been conditioned to obey that tone of voice. He spun to face the door and to hide his blushing face as he felt Papyrus pull him close and wrap his long arms around Sans’s tiny frame. Boss seems to linger there for a moment, lingering in the scent between nape and spine like some freak. Sans leans forward and let the moment pass. 

 

“I fell when I was a kid and almost  _ fell  _ down… that's how I got this scar.” Sans lets a small smile tear at the corners of his mouth. He smiles to the door, Boss was talking. “Grillby took me in and took care of me that's how I know him. Not because of his business. Not because of his pets. He’s not going to get you again, okay Dove? You’re mine now.” 

 

How bitter sweet, if Sans didn’t already have that fact beaten into his bones he would have appreciated the sentiment. He wouldn’t let this chance escape him though. He had to keep this conversation open. 

 

“So thats how you know Grillby? He took care of you?” 

 

“ Not like- how he took  _ care _ of you. He found me on the edge of Waterfall, my skull cracked open- fractions of health.”  Papyrus whispers the words like the were taboo. “Back then, there were lots of bridges that led nowhere, pointless really. The underground was full of dead ends. My brother and I got into a fight with a few monsters and had to choose between dying or jumping. ” Sans hitched a breath. “We jumped. When I came too, Grillby was there for me. He’d told me I was the only one to survive the fall. He gave me my brothers ashes and took care of me.”

 

The fingers holding Sans suddenly felt like daggers. 

 

Grillby fed him those same lines too.  _ Your brother is dead. You're the only one who survived. Move on. Here are his ashes… put him to rest. Live your life. Move on. I’ll take care of you. Trust me.  Kiss me.   _ Nights that moved on with their entwined bodies. 

 

Sans had already suspected his brother could be alive and be Boss... but it didn’t matter to him.  He wanted to kill Papyrus and take back his soul. He wanted to escape this imprisonment and there was no jailer that could keep him from trying. 

 

Names meant nothing.  There was no way… -

 

“Listen, I don’t like his hobbies, or how he’s treated you Dove… But Grillby’s been around forever, right? I think his hobbies are a way to pass time. But he’s a good guy at heart, okay? He’s been a brother to me. He’s the best. ” 

 

-...No way Papyrus survived, his brother had died years ago. What nonsense was Boss saying?

 

Sans wrapped his dust in his scarf and sent that down the river. And then he grieved… for so long. He stayed by the echo flower beds.  His brother loved the echo flowers and Sans loved the glow stones on the ceiling. It was their safe place, where they would meet up if they got separated. Where Sans would go to make his baby brother stop crying and where Papyrus had learned to take Sans when he had his nightmares. 

 

But… Grillby was the one to guide him to his brothers dust. Wasn’t he? How weird was it to find kindness and compassion in the underground… and sleep next to someone who didn’t want his 1 hit point of exp.

 

Everyone knew Grillby, the guardian of the ruins. He’d been around longer than asgore- longer than most humans-  the fire monster had earned a reputation in the war. He didn’t age, not like monsters did. He was older…  _ experienced. _ Sans loved it. Loved to be held in those arms, body guided by someone so skilled…  When his mind was numb with pleasure the pain of his loss seemed miniscule it was nothing compared to the heaven like pleasure assaulting his senses. 

 

Grillby  _ always _ knew what to say… His silky tone and kind words helped to ease the guilt of his brothers death. It was his fault they jumped… if anything… Sans thought he could act as a cushion to his brother. He jumped knowing he would take fall damage… and that it would destroy his single digit of health…  but he jumped so Paps could live and - _ oh stars _ he didn’t.

 

...

 

So Grillby comforted him.  

 

…

 

Grillby comforted them  _ both _ . 

 

Sans stared at the back of the bedroom door,- Boss was still going on about how great Grillby was but it's completely mute to Sans. 


	8. Exposition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry its taken so long to update~ I might be overthinking the fic a bit much and too worried about continuity and word count...  
> Whelp... theres lots of mistakes, but I'm moving forward!!!
> 
> I hope you enjoy! ~(TwT)~
> 
> ** edit: just added a chunk of extra text from the End Notes into the actual story.

The air was oppressive as stories of glory and adoration filled the room for Grillby. Every happy memory Papyrus had bubbled only further made Sans sink into a puddle on his lap. Everytime Papyrus said the word _‘brother’_ like it meant something with Grillby, Sans sunk deeper and deeper into a depression.  
   
When he first heard Boss’s true name Sans knew there was a chance Papyrus could be his brother but he had been doubting this was the same Papyrus. After all, _Papyrus_ was a precious name given to his little brother and before his own eyes Sans had tossed his dust into the river. He’d accepted and moved on from that death… it was impossible for him to be alive.  
   
Yet hearing his story made that impossibility a reality. Boss _was_ his brother. The precious little brother he thought had dusted years ago was still alive…  and they…. had sex.  
   
A crimson haze of magic flushes over his cheeks.  
   
Was it crazy to think… he somewhat enjoyed it?  
   
Boss had taken advantage of him before… that was nothing new… but last night Sans felt satisfaction from that pleasure. Not just a coil in his gut that released when it was finally over, it felt… almost comforting.  
   
The small amounts of comforts Sans sought from his brother were increasing. Instead of the violent maniac that kidnapped him, he began to see more and more positive aspects of the taller skeleton.   
   
And as Papyrus babbled away about Grillby being a good brother, Sans felt more and more like he was the wrong one here.  He was a _monster_ for abandoning Papyrus. He should have kept searching…  He shouldn’t have let him go.  
   
The maids said Paps was a good guy. Sans knew at the bottom of his soul his little brother was a good guy. ... He knew the partner that held him in those large arms was a good guy. It didn’t make sense how Papyrus became so violent.  
   
So Sans rejected that.  
   
Papyrus wasn’t violent, it was _Sans_ who was misbehaving and deserved to be punished. It was _Sans_ who abandoned his little brother all those years ago. It was _Sans_ who was a bad brother.  
   
 _Come to think of it,_ Sans thought as he stared at the bedroom door, _Papyrus seemed less threatening than before._ Had he imagined it?  There was no way the monster currently snuggling him was so violent. Sans fell softly against Papyrus’s chest and felt the warmth of those arms enclosing him.  
   
“Oh! I nearly forgot… I was going to call Grillbz when we got settled.” Papyrus sprang up from the bed, leaving a fleeting spot of warmth where Sans lied his head against. Grillby went around the room in circles. He grabbed his phone from the computer desk but he was looking for something else.  
   
Whipping his head around to look, his eyes fall upon his pets disheveled appearance. The white overly large shirt draped over one of his shoulders, exposing the creamy bone littered with hickeys and cracks. Sans was wide eyed and _(Papyrus assumed)_ lonely to be left on the bed. His dove looks back at him with a pathetic pout and a wanton face that practically begged for his master to cradle him. And Papyrus was all too eager to hear those small mews he’d elicit from last night. It was a sound sweeter than _any_ song.   
   
Sans, on the other hand, has no such fantasies when Papyrus had jumped from their intimate seating. His mind isn’t aware that he looks appetizing for the other to tear apart. Nor does he have any intention of engaging in the same perversion Papyrus is currently imagining.   
   
In the quieted room his thoughts ring about inside his skull, throwing conclusions and half slashed concepts together to fill a gap in his memory. Just now- the way Boss was talking about Grillby seemed to jump start his rational thoughts. His past and present memories were bleeding into one truth.   
   
 _Grillby had lied to them both. Papyrus was alive._  
 _And it was definitely the bastard in front of him._  
   
But how did his precious little brother get this way?   
How did he survive the underground?   
How many could he have killed to break open the barrier?  
...Did last night count as incest?   
Did Paps even know they were brothers?   
Did it matter?   
   
As far as Sans was concerned, this was still the egomaniac who kidnapped him and abused him to sing a goddamn lullaby!   
   
But it was a lullaby they shared as kids… alone in the dark caverns of the underground- Sans used to sing for his brother to sleep. So that the young skeleton wouldn’t hear the screams of monsters through the night. So that Pap wouldn’t have to worry about where they got food or if they would even survive till the morning. He sang… and his brother felt safe. And that's what mattered… Perhaps that fondness for song is what drove Papyrus to such brutality. Sans wasn’t sure. He rubbed his cheek along the warm spot in the sheets and tried to come up with more theories to explain what might have happened.   
   
Meanwhile, across the room Papyrus was, for the second time this morning, searching for his missing shirt only to realize his dove had taken it. Seeing his partner clothed in only his shirt from the night before, Papyrus felt something like pride swelling in his chest. It was almost like they were any normal couple, stealing the other’s shirt was something done out of playfulness or as a tease.  
   
For a brief moment,  Papyrus wondered if his pet thought the same thing. _(If only he knew the truth unraveling inside that skull.)_ From appearances though, Sans was certainly more docile since he saw those tapes.The skeleton was greedily soaking in the warmth on the bed- as if begging for Boss to come back. It made a dreadful smirk spread across Papyrus’s jaw. Somehow he wondered if this quiet version of his dove was due to his plan finally paying off.   
   
 _Did he finally break-in his little bird?_  
   
The smile immediately fell from his face and he quickly dismissed that thought. So much had happened yesterday he almost excused the fact his Dove ran over him with a car. Forget breaking in his bird, they still had much more training ahead. And yet… some progress had been made. The smaller skeleton was snuggling into his spot on the bed, looking adorable and far from innocent with his pale bone visible all the way up his thigh, barely hidden by the end of the white shirt.  
   
His dove simply hatred playing dress up and stole his shirt to have some semblance of a man. Another act of rebellion, but Papyrus excused it if only because it certainly fed his ego to see his pet dressed in his oversized shirt. Somehow it made his Dove look more appealing than wearing pretty gowns.  
   
“You know, I can call Grillby another time.” Papyrus sighs. Despite his admiration for the monster, he can’t deny the horrors he’d seen on that tape. For now, he’d play with his Dove a while longer _. Hmm… what to do today?_  
   
Normally he’d have his Dove sing him a song to calm him, but through talking about the Underground Papyrus felt a therapeutic reprieve that lullaby couldn’t provide. His chest felt lighter somehow…  
   
What else was there to do then? Fuck? As much as he’d like to ravage the half-naked skeleton, Papyrus also knew it would undo his training if they fucked again so soon. Since last night his Dove had been such a willing partner, finally without the sarcasm or manipulating. The next move played had to be gentler. He couldn’t let this opportunity slip away. Soon his pet would be perfect. … _soon_. Papyrus couldn't rush this.  
   
What part of the plan was this now? Three? Four? His Dove had been a feisty little shit when he first picked up the monster from the street. His recent attempted getaway was just the last ember of a dying flame. Soon all that rebellion in his pet will turn to devotion. Papyrus had planned it out that way.  
   
Since the day he’d plucked this _chick_ from the street and heard it's lovely song, he knew he’d have to nourish its love and squash that arrogance. It would have been simple if the monster was grateful for a place to stay. After all, a song was a cheap price to pay rent. Instead, the little shit decided to scream at him every day- _testing_ his authority.  
   
Grillby taught him about this, whether from his own sick hobbies with women or a tactic of war, Grillby passed him down the ways to earn someone’s total adoration.   
   
Stockholm syndrome.  
   
It started with trauma. It had too. That was stage one and it was the most difficult. Papyrus wasn’t usually one to care if he dusted a monster or two at this point, he was already a boss level and a judge, but this was a special case. The problem was how could Papyrus punish his precious fragile dove if even a single hit might dust him. So he started slow. He left open the window to let in the bitter cold. He reduced his food. He bound him to a small space… a cage fitting for a songbird...  
   
But he soon found it wasn’t enough and he was brought to the same inevitable answer. It had to be _'pain'_ to straighten his dove’s attitude. So he bruised bone, careful not to snap it like a twig in his grip. He used threats and he used humiliation; and when that didn’t work and his dove became suicidal, he had to take his soul away.  
   
That, of course, opened new doors to torture… _pleasure_. His dove hated it, but the sound was addictive to Papyrus.   
   
Even now he shuddered to hear those quieted mewls of unwanted pleasure. The cries of last night seemed more restrained - unsure of pleasure and weak in comparison to the eruption of cries from the strain of keeping quiet.   
   
His dove had to sing if he ever wanted the pain and pleasure to stop. It was the only thing that appeased Papyrus and his Dove learned quick…. But Papyrus changed.  
   
He started to crave the other's body as well.   
   
His Dove knew this and tried many times to exploit this weakness… but it didn’t ruin his training. On the contrary, it _enhanced_ it. The second stage required his Dove to take action by learning what Papyrus enjoyed… obediently giving in to his demands to avoid punishment… cautious of every trigger and suspicious of doing anything out of line.  
   
Papyrus regretted this step, it seemed to have carried with his Dove. Making the once arrogant and snappy skeleton a bundle of nerves and anxiety. He was prone to wetting himself and having random panic attacks and bawling up to cry constantly…   
   
It did have its benefits though, like how Papyrus was able to assert himself as a friend while those videotapes played and Sans retreated to a bubble in his mind. It wasn’t easy… but with a little coaxing his Dove was starting to come around as the perfect pet.  
   
That was part three. Small… _simple…_ acts of kindness. Papyrus didn’t honestly think he’d get this far. What a relief it was to drop his persona of a harsh master. He was starting to think he’d get permanent frown lines. His patience was wearing thin with his Dove.  Not everything had been intentional… his Dove’s escape had certainly been a trying test on his patience, but honestly he was surprised. Surprised how far that tiny flame of hope still held on. That's why he had to show his true strength as a judge. He had to show it was _impossible_ to escape.    
   
The spot his Dove snuggles into isn’t an act of love of sentiment or even the need for the lingering warmth. He knows that. The spot is merely a symbol of his master. The last strand of sanity in a terrifying world with abuse and entrapment… from here on out anything nice Papyrus did would be an act of divinity to the depraved Dove. He was searching for comfort.  
   
 _(And dealing with guilt…)_ but that information wasn’t available to Papyrus.  
   
He comes back to the bed, having the smaller already snuggle into his frame… desperate to be touched. _(Desperate un-vocalized apologies to his brother…_ ) Papyrus patted the skull and looked over his Dove, wondering if he too had been brainwashed. The smaller skeletons appeal drove Papyrus mad with lust- maybe it was some pavlovian conditioning between the gratification of coitus and those explicit vocal cries that made even the most mundane song from his Dove intoxicating…. Whatever it was, he was _addicted_ to it.   
   
Papyrus pinched the bridge of his nose when a tent erected itself in the front of his pants. Just imagining Sans’s murmuring was enticing. Perhaps, _he thought to himself_ ,  he should get some space from his pet today… before he ruined all this training.  
   
 _Hmmm…_. But what else could he do today? He came back to the same set of problems as earlier. What else could he do today? His mind hummed with the same answer of song and sex... now with a bonus need for a shower and breakfast but nothing else came to mind. Clearly, his idea of a good time was wrong. So he drew his eyes to the beauty on his bed. Maybe he could answer.   
   
“Dove?” Papyrus wandered over and rubbed the back of the cranium. The small massage melted Sans against his hip. In  such a relaxed and lazy state of mind, all he could do was make a small hum to let Papyrus know he was listening. “What do you want to do today?”  
   
And suddenly Sans wasn’t sleepy. He looked up with wide bright red eyes like stars and a pensive smile.   
   
 _Choice_?    
   
He got to _choose_ what he _wanted_?   
   
Honestly, he’d be fine sleeping right here… but he didn’t want to pass this up. There was something he desperately wanted ever since he arrived at that horrible manor.  
   
This cabin was a nice chance of pace and came with a longer leash, but it only hindered anything Sans wanted to do. Surrounded by woods there was little he could do but stay indoors. Yet, he was sure there had to be something here that could make up for the what the manor and that small bird cage lacked. Then his mind settles on something. He quickly nods his head, words caught in his throat. He can’t help the tremor in his voice or the hopeful smile on his face as he finally gives his answer.  
   
“I want to read!”


	9. How to get your Boss to moan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a new co-writer ( DandelionSea ) who is helping me write Caged Bird! (* ﾟ∀ﾟ)ﾉｼ♥  
> Please show them some love by checking out and commenting on their fics!  
> Thank you for reading!!!…..φ(・∀・＊)

The last book Sans had ever read was about a giant talking cat that wore a hat and caused trouble wherever it went. Sans hated it and swore if he saw a giant fucking cat break into his home and he would kill it immediately. But it was a crumpled up old book in the dump with smears on the pages and water stains on the cover, and Papyrus enjoyed it. So Sans had read it over and over for his little brother. The words were embroiled in his head. The dumb rhymes and watercolor pictures were boring to read again and again but it brought the little baby bones so much joy to hear. That same silly smile is still there, if Sans squints hard enough he could see that familiar giddy buried under jagged teeth and scars.   
   
The book he held now was so much more vivid than those fairytales and nursery rhymes. He was able to procure a murder mystery fic from the cabin and he was deep into the most violent part of the book, yet Paps smiles all the same so he continues to read.   
   
“Though she had never held a knife before, the blade cleaved through flesh like it was spider silk. Blood spilled forth from the nape of his neck, he gurgled his last breath- a call for the guards, or perhaps a final apology. She’d never know. It didn’t matter to her once her hands were stained with the fresh blooming color. It painted her in the colors of war. The color of freedom.”   
   
“Why can’t they just say blood is red.”   
   
“It's more poetic that way.”  Sans kept his finger on the edge of the chapter and let those final words sink in. It contradictingly sent a chill up his spine and a warmth through his bones.   
   
He’d miss the smell of paperback books and the weight in his hand, reading was the therapy he’d crave for so long. An escape from his own life, a new adventure. A relief after months of staring at the back shelves of  a library he was never able to touch. If Boss had allowed him to read sooner, maybe he wouldn’t have tried to escape. The comfort from holding the spine of a book would have made any cell homey.   
   
“You like reading?”  
   
“More than anything.” The hum in San’s throat only punctuated the glee he felt. “I treasured every book I got in the underground, they were so rare.”   
   
“Nyeh heh… they were probably rare because my brother scraped them all up from the dump before anyone else could get them. He had a collection of books stacked as high as a-.” All his excitement is cut off mid sentence as Papyrus reminisces about a time long past. There is a pained look that strikes across his features before he straightens his posture and returns to lounging boredly. “He had a lot a books.” Papyrus whispers, the energy is sapped from his body and he starts to issue callous commands once again. “Keep reading Dove. I like the sound of your voice.”   
   
The way Paps would dredge up from their past and become so sullen was a recognizable pattern after the fourth time- so Sans didn’t press further with questions. He read the next chapter, keeping his secret tucked away.   
   
The way so few words were shared about the _‘deceased’_ brother made both of their souls sink with an eerie feeling that could never subside. Talking would open old wounds and create new ones.  
   
Sans wasn’t sure he could bare that yet. He still wants to understand Boss and what made him _tick_. Revealing something so obvious to him now, might ruin the callous shell he’s so meticulously made. Just yesterday evening,  He was prepared to kill Boss for his own freedom- so before anything else Sans made it his goal to learn more about this monster.   
   
There were still many things he had to figure out on his own before the need to tell Papyrus the truth. One being, Grillby’s involvement. The fire skeleton had a hand in raising Papyrus after all… and he had a hand in selling Sans. He would never forgive that walking furnace for deceiving them both after all these years.   
   
The bastard would pay.  … As soon as Sans figures out what his goal was.   
   
Why even split them up? Why not take Papyrus into his harem and be done with the matter? The more the thought about it more questions kept arising. Why did Grillby need to sell monsters anyway? He was already a wealthy and popular monster back in the underground. He had a reputation for battle and the strength to seize the throne- if he had chose too..   
   
“You stopped reading, Dove.”  A skeleton kiss presses up against his neck- warm and wet with the vapor of Boss’s breath. An electric surge flows through his spine at that small peck and Sans couldn’t help the flush that spread across his cheeks. This was _embarrassing_!!! Why was Boss being so tender? Was he always like that?  
   
Compared to the days in the manor, the cabin had a warmer feeling to it. Kisses weren’t unwelcome.. They were bittersweet but short. Sans stares down at the pages in front of him… trying to find his place in the text again.   
   
The next couple of hours continued more or less the same. Sans read out loud and from behind him, hugging him tightly in his lap, Papyrus would nuzzle his neck and play with the buttons on his shirt. - Never exploring further under that layer… which was odd. Boss was being oddly cautious about being too handsy, though it never stopped him before.  He was waiting...  
   
Reaching the final page in the book, Sans grew a bit uneasy. He read slowly on the last couple paragraphs… but alas the book ended and he closed the heavy hard covered book with a soft clap. He waited for a move from Papyrus but the skeleton stayed glued to his hip.  
   
Yet surprisingly Papyrus made no advance. No request, no insane, unreasonable demand that his little pet would be required to fulfill. He simply rested his head on Sans’ shoulder, a deadweight with none of the usual life or energy that Boss put into their interactions.  
   
Perhaps… this is more than waiting. Looking up Sans sees that the skeletons’ face is genuinely tired, bags formed under his eyes in a way that the smaller had yet to see on him.  
   
“... uh… boss?” Sans spoke slowly, suddenly worried for the skeleton sitting so close to him. Boss jerked, inhaling sharply as he regains his senses. It was almost as if he were asleep - which is strange. They had woken up only a short time ago… Sans glanced over at the clock; it was only a little after noon. For Sans, now would be a perfectly normal time to take a nap. However, Boss never seemed like the sort of monster to favor midday cestas.  
   
_(Papyrus hated napping - and sleeping in general. It was always a struggle for Sans to get the little booger to bed. That was why they started reading fluffy bunny in the first place.)_  
   
Sans shook his head, catching Boss’ eyes once more as he watched the other monster, who fixed him with a dirty scowl. Boss moved suddenly, causing Sans to flinch. Shit, was he upset?? All Sans did was read him fucking books! And up until a few moments ago Boss had looked as if he was enjoying himself. And yet now the expression written across his face seemed defensive; completely closed off and generally upset.  
   
“What are you looking at?” Boss snapped, suddenly separating the two so he can stand. And now the Boss Sans knew was back, attitude and all. Sans huffed, placing the book on the table. Boss paid him little mind as he stalked out of the library.  “I am going to have the girls start on lunch.” He said, his tone catching once or twice, as if he was trying to hide a cough. He cleared his throat and continued out of the room.  
   
Sans watched the door with narrowed eyes, half expecting Boss to come back in and beat the shit out of him. Why was he acting so weird? Did Sans do something wrong? Again?? Things seemed to be going so well today too; at least, as well as it can be when you are living with your rapist kidnapper who is also your long lost dead brother… when did life get so confusing?  
   
Well… whatever. Brother or not this asshole was keeping him here against his will and now that he is alone in some new, unguarded room he should start looking for ways out. Despite the fact that they were alone in the forest with absolutely nowhere for Sans to run to if he escaped, having some way out would be good just incase the chance arose. Maybe some random hikers would come by, or a bus of students on a field trip! Sure, having a half-dressed skeleton with more nicks and scars than bones would be off putting, but surely they would help him get away.  
   
Then again, if Boss was as beloved as everyone says he was, then there was always the chance that they would just bring him right back. Sans _was_ property, after all - he had the markings to prove it.   
   
Scars can be hidden, lies can be told - for now Sans just has to focus on getting _out_. Why? ...Well, Sans will work on that logic later. It wasn’t _unpleasant_ here, per say (not anymore at least), but it still wasn’t his choice. Even if all of his mistreatment _was_ a direct result of his behavior, he couldn’t stay here. If anything that just proved how shitty of a pet he was. Boss could find someone else - someone _willing_ to stay here and be his ‘little bird’ or whatever the fuck. And there was an entire surface out there that Sans has yet to see… half of his life that he won’t get back, but he still wanted to make up for. Whatever he had to do, Sans was going to fucking _live_ goddammit.   
   
Before Sans could even begin his investigation of the windows that are far too high for him to reach even with a stool, there was a crash from the room behind him. He paused, listening. It came from beyond the door where Boss had exited - as if someone had fallen and taken an expensive vase and table down with them. Sans kept his ears trained, catching the sound of the maids hurried footsteps pattering quickly through the halls, high pitched cries of _‘Sir! Sir!’_ , the soft moan coming from a familiar source. Only this time the sound wasn’t in pleasure, or anticipation.   
   
Boss was moaning in pain.  
   
For a few seconds Sans was frozen, unsure of himself. He can’t say what came over him - surely he should be using this opportunity to his advantage… but all that he can think about is standing at the edge of _that bridge_ \- looking down at the water careening to the endless void below. His brother whimpering at his side as he has to make the decision, clinging to his pants leg desperately.  
   
All of this happened in a matter of moments, because before even Sans was aware of his actions he was throwing himself out the door. Clambering through the threshold to the living room, he took in the scene. Boss was sprawled out across the floor, body strewn carelessly over a broken table. Nezu was bent over, quickly sweeping away shards of broken porcelain as Muffet attempted to rouse the unconscious skeleton.    
   
“Well don’t just stand there like, you useless lamp!” Muffet snipped, pulling Boss up onto one of her shoulders. “Be a good pet and help your master!”  
   
Sans could ignore the demeaning comments this once, instinct driving him forward to carefully remove the pieces of the broken table out from under the other skeletons feet. Muffet used each of her hands to lift Boss over her shoulder, glaring at Sans and motioning him to follow. Sans kept pace behind her, trailing the pair as Muffet brought Boss to his bed in the bedroom. She set him down gently, placing the back of her hand on his forehead.  
   
“Go fetch me a pitcher of water and a rag, deary,” She said, her voice softening now that they are someone safer. “And the thermometer, if you can find it.”  
   
Sans nodded numbly, stumbling out of the room to comply with the demand. What happened? Did Boss get sick? He seemed alright for the past few days - then again the water from the sprinklers had been cold. Too cold. And Boss hadn’t had much rest since then… was this yet another thing that Sans was responsible for? Did he cause him yet _another_ unnecessary grievance??  
   
Or was it something worse… had he fallen down? Had _Papyrus_ fallen down??  
   
Sans souls seized - his body freezing as he reaches the sink. His hands trembled, unable to move to turn the faucet on. His baby brother was dead - had been dead for so long. Sans had stopped counting the days since he accepted that he would never see him again. And yet, somehow he found him again - he found him warped, twisted, cruel… a rapist who had kidnapped Sans and forced him to sing and took his soul and _tortured him_ but it was _still_ Papyrus and he couldn’t- _could not let him die again._  
   
Sans had to force his breathing to slow down, realizing now that his knees were crumpled beneath him that his soul was exposed and beating harshly against his ribs. His fingers gripped tightly against the sink, pulling himself back up to fill a jug with water and search for a thermometer that he was given _no direction_ on how to find. Eventually he gave up, taking a dish cloth and the pitcher back with him to Muffet and Papyrus.  
   
“Thank you, dear,” She said curtly. “Please shut the door on your way out.”  
   
Sans opened his mouth, wanting to object. He had to stay with his… his… with Boss! It just felt wrong to leave him… but one look at the look of concentration on Muffet’s face proved to Sans that he was not needed here. Slowly, he nodded, stepping back and shutting the door to give the spidery maid room to work.  
 

####  \---

   
Boss is running a fever. That is all Sans had been told as Muffet shooed him and Nezu out of the room, locking the door behind her. Since then there has been no word on his condition.   
   
Sans slept on the couch the entire night, tossing and turning as half-remembered dreams batter his skull. Eventually, despite sleep still pulling stubbornly at his mind, Sans decides that sleep is a lost cause and slides off of the cushions. Glancing out the window reveals that night has yet to fully disappear; lingering stars dot a sky that is just a bit too dark to call dawn.   
   
Sans stumbles as his hand grazes the wall in search for a lightswitch. Exhaustion is still trying to drag him back to the realm of vivid nightmares that he hopes to escape. There seems to be an endless pool of horrid imagery for his mind to pull from, projecting it against his consciousness now that he has the luxury to sleep deeply enough to dream.   
   
Finally his hand presses against a lump in the wall and the lights come on, shooting agony through Sans’ brow and blinding him. Slowly, though, his vision comes back, and he can make his way into the kitchen.  
   
Yesterday he hadn’t really had time to take much in, but now that he can see it really is beautiful. Despite the rest of the house looking like something straight out of a fairytale (or maybe an advertisement for a woodland vacation) the kitchen seems fairly modern, with expensive looking appliances and cookware hanging from hooks on the wall. An island topped with polished granite separates Sans from the rest of the room, standing almost half a foot taller than he is.  
   
It is honestly the nicest looking kitchen he has ever been in - one of the very few he’s set foot in that was located in someone’s actual home. Well… perhaps home isn’t quite the right word for this place… it’s more like a vacation spot. Everything has a distinct feel of disuse to it, like a doll house or a model in a store. Sans wonders if anyone has ever lived here before, or if it was just built for Boss to use whenever he got bored of being a famous millionaire adored by all of monsterkind.  
   
With a heavy sigh Sans pulls himself over to the sink, forgoing the cups he can clearly see through the glass cabinets and just dipping his head under the stream of water to drink. The water helps wake him up just a bit, keeping him away from the inky blankness of sleep.  
   
“Honestly, Sir Dove,” A tired voice comes from across the room. Nezu stands at the door, wearing a set of causal looking slacks and a button up shirt. “That is so unsanitary…” She mutters as Sans pulls back, wiping his mouth. Under normal circumstances he would be offended, but he has come to realize that these women’s opinions of him didn’t mean shit. He does step back and let her into the kitchen in hopes that she will start a cup of coffee and maybe breakfast. Sans is _starving._  
   
“...how’s boss doing?” Sans asks, watching as the mouse monster pulls over a chair to reach the cups sitting up on the top shelves.   
   
“I don’t know,” She admits, bringing down a very decorative looking ceramic bowl. Sans watches with interest as she fills it with water and sets it over the stove. It doesn’t exactly look like something that would be used for cooking… though Sans couldn’t begin to guess exactly what it was. “Muffet has been by his side all night; she won’t let me anywhere near him.” Nezu says, switching on the flames below the bowl. “I will at least start a pot of coffee for him when he wakes up… Sir wouldn’t dare start his day without at least a cup of kopi luwak…”   
   
Sans snorts, feeling suddenly _very_ out of place. He stars at the maid for a while, watching as she secured the ground-up beans in a bag and places them inside the pot. He backs out of the room, not entirely sure where he is headed. Just not here. It’s too… wrong here.  
   
“Oh, Sir Dove,” Nezu calls just before he can escape the oppressive kitchen. He turns, looking to her as she addresses him. “You can sleep up in the servant’s quarters with us - just take a left up those stairs. There should be some extra linens in the closet.”  
   
“heh... uh… thanks…” He shuffles out awkwardly, picking at his bones as he goes. So strange… they act as though they see themselves as his superiors (because they are) and yet they seem to hold at least some affection for him. Kindness, almost. Sans can’t imagine it being genuine, but there is simple no gain they could possibly come by from him.   
   
Sans moves along the wall until he finds the stairs, stumbling up the steps until he reaches a rickety attic that betrays the true age of this home. The logs look as though they were cut by hand from trees, and the old bed frames on which the servants presumably slept seemed older than most monsters and certainly any human. So it is some sort of renovation then… or at least heavy remodeling. Shaking his head, Sans turns to the closest to grab a set of sheets. Maybe he’ll have better luck sleeping on a real bed…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a new co-writer ( DandelionSea ) who is helping me write Caged Bird! (* ﾟ∀ﾟ)ﾉｼ♥  
> Please show them some love by checking out and commenting on their fics!  
> Thank you for reading!!!…..φ(・∀・＊)


	10. Nightmares and memories

Straining against the heavy comforter, Papyrus wakes up in his bed drenched in a puddle of his own sweat and tears. His labored breaths are too shallow, too fast, for him to calm himself even though he knew the imagery fresh in his mind was just an illusion from a  dream. Or perhaps a distant, lost, memory. His body is tilts forward like a crane, ready to puke, as the nightmare subsides and reality starts to seep into his mind.   
   
He stares down at the camouflage comforter bathed in the soft blue hues of moonlight. It dances off his ebony fingers and distorts the shadows in the room so that every foreign object looks like an enemy is just biding their time at the edge of his peripheral. His eyelights fade in and out from the haze of dreams that clouds his vision.   
   
For one sweet moment of lucidity, he was hugging onto his big brother again like they had never left the underground. His brother was the coolest,  grinning even in the face of danger. But in his dreams that tender expression became bloody and stained with fear. They were lying in the dirt for some reason and Papyrus was wheezing for air. Unable to stand, unable to even muster up the strength to move his pinky finger, Papyrus watched in silent horror as digits began to drop from his own health and his brothers. Yet his strong and dependable brother was already crawling towards him despite being crippled and bloody. He was trying to save them both. And with the telltale green glow of healing magic weaved between his fingertips he reached for Papyrus… and fell face down like a log.   
   
Papyrus’ fingers clutch at his bedsheets, leaving a depression in the folds of the fabric. The sweltering heat rolls off of him and soaks deep into the thick blanket, making it stick uncomfortably to his bare chest. He thrashes against it, flailing and grappling with the giant beast of cotton until his feet can finally touch the cold hardwood floor and he’s free from its clutches.   
   
Feeling the chill against his bone sent a tingle through the soles of his feet and up through his spine. He bows against the floor and crumbles beside the bed to seek the coolness and escape the memory haunting his mind.  Yet, from under the depths of the bed, he vividly sees the memory staring back at him. Those piercing red eyes are tiny pin pricks of pain and fear… and the puddle of crimson blood floods out from under the mattress. Glazed it the azure glow of the moon the deep crimson glows like magenta radiation.   
   
Papyrus crawls away. Backwards on his hands and feet he edges himself to a corner of the room but the bubblegum shade of blood creeps closer. Consuming him. Papyrus wildly lashes out at anything his claws can grasp onto, but the liquid sticks to him like taffy. Every pull, every thrash only sucks him in deeper to the puddle. Papyrus cries out desperately screaming for attention, echoing the cries he’d decades ago when he stared at the bones of his brother… so distant.   
   
_HELP!!!_ … HELP   _PLEASE!_ … isn’t there _anyone_?’ … just one person.. please...His brother is dying and the blood beneath them both is too much. _Too much._  
   
Then a ray of light cut through the toxic sludge of blood and guilt. A hand ablaze in flame reached for him… and Papyrus, for once in his miserable life, let himself have the briefest glimmer of hope that the hand was friendly and that this stranger would help them. But it was too late for his brother…  By the time Papyrus had healed and Grillby helped him walk back to that spot all that remained was dust and the tawny colored cmud.   
   
Papyrus snaps his eyes open.  
   
Again on the floor, he found himself staring under the bed and waiting for those piercing eyes to return but it looked like the nightmare was gone. He shivered against his knees, finally coming up and trying to hold a solid breath before his ribs collapse in. _Shaking like a baby bones..._ he let out a gruff of disgust at himself.   
   
He stands to his feet with his posture hunched over and an arm steady against the wall to hold him up. The floor felt as though it were moving below his heels. He grabs at the wall but can’t get a hand around the flat surface. It confuses him for a moment… and he’s left slightly embarrassed by the mistake, but in the dark his pet wouldn’t see his fumble.   
   
Come to think of it… where was his precious Dove? Though it hadn’t been long, it seemed so foreign to sleep in an empty bed without him. He missed his brother’s warmth next to him in the cool caves of Waterfall.  
   
Wait - His brother?   
   
Papyrus shook his head back and forth until he could swear he heard something rattle in his skull. His head wasn’t right still… he needed some water. Carefully he stepped around the room and found the handle to the bedroom door. It pulled open suddenly with a vacuum-like effect, cooling the heat of his room with the chilled air in the rec area.  It was brighter out here since the windows streamed in moonlight and night lamps dimly guided the path. It wasn’t very hard for Papyrus to waddle his way to the kitchen sink and soak his head under the cool steam of water. It pools deep into his skull and numbed throbbing places along the bone.   
   
If Muffet were here, she would have loudly pointed out how it were amusing how the master had picked up such poor habits from the pet. In her stead Papyrus scorns himself for being such a wreck. His mind was playing tricks on him and in every obscure corner there lie his shameful past… mocking him and his own helplessness.   
   
As a kid he couldn’t do a single thing but he was grown now and stronger. He’d never let his precious things get hurt again…  
   
So where was his precious pet?  
   
Without a towel to wipe his face, he had to let the water drip from his chin and run through his ribs. Each droplet would send a shudder through him… but it was just enough to keep him awake and aware. Papyrus craned his slender neck out to peer into the living room area, carefully watching for any movement but it seemed his dove wasn’t sleeping on the sofa.    
   
Immediately Papyrus lunges for the front door. _He couldn’t have… escaped? Right?_ It would be very much like the urchin to take advantage of any weakness. His pigeon had quite a lot of luck when it came to his ridiculous escapes.   
   
The front door is thrown open in a hurry and Papyrus wanders out, barefoot and half naked to search for a sign. _any sign!_  To know that his bird was near. _Tracks? Crumbs? Maybe he would fly back to his nest when he was done exploring._ There was nowhere to go after all, Papyrus made sure of that.Given enough time his bird would have to come back to eat. He was sure.   
   
He turns back around to go inside. He was giving too much credit to his jail bird. There was clearly no where for his precious pet to fly off. His Dove was probably sleeping in a different room… yes, that made more sense. There were numerous guest rooms and servent quaters in the villa. He grasped the side of his head and felt the drip of water crest through his bones- still tired.   
   
“~Paps!” That nostalgic voice…?  Papyrus knew it! He turns swiftly on his heel to see him. But nothing was there. The voice emanated from deeper in the woods… Slowly Papyrus takes a step forward.  
   
Sans turns in the bed upstairs, finding that sleep had completely abandoned him now that he has been up and about. He growls softly at the curtainless windows streaming in the first rays of morning sun. No wonder the staff is able to wake up at the ass-crack of dawn…  
   
Sans had unfortunately chosen the bed closest to the windows, thinking that the temperature would be a bit more moderate there. Now he pulls his pillow over his head in a vain attempt to block out the intrusive lights.  
   
With a heavy groan, Sans turns over in the sheets, throwing the pillow across the room. At this rate he might as well get breakfast… Nezu probably has it done by now. He rolls over, just about to slide out of bed when something out the window catches his eye. At first, he is sure it must have been a trick of the light - surely, _surely_ what he just saw wasn’t real…  
   
And yet, when his eyes focus they lock on to a lumbering skeleton making his way into the woods, half naked and completely defenseless. Sans’ jaw drops, a choked sound in the back of his throat hicks out; he can’t tell if he’s amused, horrified, or both. What the absolute _fuck_ is that idiot doing?!  
   
Sans debates his next move; should he pretend he didn’t see anything? Surely one of the maids will notice Boss’ absence and search for him. It’s not like he owes that bastard anything… he’ll be fine. Maybe a bit spaced up and embarrassed, but it’s not like he’d die in the woods out there. Not when he doesn’t look like he’ll make it more than a few more feet before passing out yet again.  
   
Sans turns away from the window, sliding off the sheets. Whatever. He pulls the too-big shirt over his head once more, having taken it off to sleep in an attempt to keep it tolerably hygienic for just a bit longer. Maybe he can find a set of trousers in one of the old closets up here… Surely they had to stock this place with _some_ sort of clothing.  
   
Sans stands, ready to leave the room when he is stopped yet again by something outside - this time, however, it is a sound.  
   
“Sans…”  
   
The word is so faint Sans would have hardly heard it. In fact for a few moments he is sure it was just his imagination playing tricks on him - a sly gust of wind, or a stray bird craw. But then he hears it again, the voice so _familiar_ and yet not how he remembers it. Papyrus is calling for him - his voice much deeper than when he was a child, but the inflections are the same. Sans spins on his heal, dashing to the window to peer out at his brother.  
   
Boss is lying face down in the mud by the woods.   
   
Sans grumbles, rushing across the room to snatch a pair of the maid’s boots and slip them on his feet. They are a bit big on him (can he really not fit a _woman’s size shoe_?? Pathetic…) but they’ll keep his feet safe as he dashes through the house, going right out the front door with no resistance whatsoever.   
   
Boss is exactly where Sans saw him from the window, sprawled out on the ground just before the treeline. Sans’ pace slows down when he sees that he isn’t in immediate danger - probably just dehydrated from being an asshole 24/7.   
   
Sans feels a bit giddy seeing boss like this, if he’s being honest. This asshole acted like he was some kinda god (though if you were hailed as the savior of monsterkind perhaps it would be a bit easy to let it get to your head) and yet here he is face down in the dirt and gravel, feverous and whimpering. It’s… cathartic to see him sunken so low. It serves him right!! The glee rushes to his head and Sans is half tempted to gloat, opening his mouth and equipping his sharpest insults and puns to bring him down just another notch…  
   
But as soon as he sees Boss’ face the head rush is over.  
   
His face is stricken with tears, his arms curled around his middle and he keens softly, whimpering out something that Sans can’t quite make out, though the few words that break through to him strike at his soul.  
   
“brother... please… please… … sans…”  
   
Sans takes a deep breath, filling his chest with air before huffing it out in a single sharp snort. “...yer a real piece’a work, ya know that?” He says, tone mingling fondness and agitation as he reaches a shoulder under Papyrus’ arm. Where the hell are the maids?   
   
With another huff and a weeze Sans pushes up against Boss’ weight, shouldering half of his body on top of his own. Good fucking _lord_ he is heavy. Sans remembers back when he was in the underground he had carried Papyrus around for _weeks_ and he never put this much strain on him. Then again, besides Papyrus being about a hundred pounds lighter, Sans has also not done much heavy lifting since then…  
   
Boss stirs just a bit, groaning as he leans further onto Sans. With a heafy ‘oof’ Sans falls to a knee, unable to support the added weight. He has only gotten about five steps from their original location, and there is no _way_ he is going to make it back to the house on his own. So the only option left is to roll the heavy bastard out on his back and wait for the maids to come.  
   
Which Sans does with the minimal amount of gentleness he can manage. Boss barely whines as he hits the ground, rolling out next to Sans who plops down immediately after.   
   
Welp. Guess they’re waiting then… Sans shivers faintly, wrapping his skeletal arms around himself as he debates going inside to grab a comforter. At least for himself - the cold air might be good for a fever. Or is it worse? It’s not like Sans has much first aid knowledge outside of “being stabbed is bad” and “don’t fall and break your leg because that shit never heals right on its own.”  
   
“Mng…” Papyrus begins to stir, babbling incoherently to himself for a while before his eyelights form, settling directly on Sans.  
   
“mornin’ asshole,” Sans says with a derogatory smile. He is still pretty pissed at him, truly, but all animosity fades from his face as the other begins to speak.   
   
“Brother?” Boss says softly, looking at him with hazy eyes. Sans’ marrow runs cold.  
   
_Boss knew._ The words race around in his mind again and again, yet Sans couldn’t bring himself to speak. _How could he?_ After everything Boss had put him through, how was he supposed to talk to Papyrus like a brother and pretend it was all okay?! To be honest, he never thought he would hear those bone chilling words again. Sans was still coming to terms with the word, himself. How was he supposed to face this... _accusation_?  
   
Carefully he picks his next words, “Boss I don’t-” a snore loudly interrupts him. Papyrus is knocked out cold again.  “... want to be your brother.” His mumble goes unheard with a soft sigh.   
   
He stares at his long lost little bro with a bitter smile. How could they be brothers anymore…  Every nostalgic memory of his precious bean was twisted and replaced with the monster Sans idly knelt by. He couldn’t think of the two as the same monster and yet he couldn’t deny it. His little brother was the same monster who raped him and kidnapped him. The twisting in his gut starts up again. If Boss really did know they were brothers...Sans wasn’t sure how he could ever face that truth.   
   
But Boss was half delirious with a fever. He didn’t know who was three feet in front of him… much less remember Sans. The small skeleton berated himself, why did he ever think they were going to have a heart to heart here in the middle of the woods? The tightness in his gut unwinds and feeling defeated he collapses to his bottom and immediately regrets it. He completely forgot he wasn’t wearing pants and now the cold mud splashes up along his inner coccyx and Sans squirms uncomfortably with the ick of dirt secreting into every dip of bone but eventually settles to just sit with boss on the edge of the forest.   
   
At night the trees around him loomed high and dangerously…Sans couldn’t help but flick his head towards every crunch of leaves and rustle in the bramble, only for his paranoia to be met with a harmless woodland critter. His jitters weren’t irrational. There had been times in the underground where the silhouettes of trees and monsters that meant to harm were one in and the same. Staying alert meant staying alive. But here on the surface, that suspicion was wasted. It was clear nothing here would hurt him, nothing but Boss.  
   
Sans kept an eye out for any sudden movement from the biggest predator in the woods, but the skeleton was deep in a fever dream. The steady rise and sink of his ribs indicated it wasn’t am explicit nightmare but it also wasn’t pleasant either. The words _brother_  and _Sans_ and _sorry_ kept passing his muddied jaw. Sans wonders if those words actually meant anything. The forest was cold and sitting in mud wasn’t comfy. Unfortunately Sans couldn’t move his heavy ass, so  was stuck here as he sat through the nightmares, holding Boss’s hand just to keep him quiet.   
   
Yet, the longer he was here, the more he felt at ease.  It wasn’t often he saw the more gentler sides of Boss. (If sleeping was even something ‘gentle’) He was reminded that even a lion could appear harmless in its sleep but watching Boss rest always had a calming effect over him. In the underground he would watch Papyrus sleep too and make sure the baby bones was getting enough rest while Sans guarded them through the night. When the royal guards crossed over the bridge to go home, signalling their retreat with heavy iron clad footsteps, Sans would finally feel at ease to rest for just the few hours before ‘day’ would occur and the lights in the underground would brighten.   
   
He still remembered the pulse his soul  - cuddling in the dark the steady rhythm was the only reason he tried so hard each day.  Sans bent down to listen to that thumping now, placing his skull against Papyrus’ ribs he closed his eyes and waited for that familiar drum of his soul. A sound like home.   
   
Boss’s soul was so close… so warm… Sans could practically reach out and -  
   
Suddenly a wicked idea crosses through Sans’ mind. Vindictively, he rolls up his sleeve and smirks at the sleeping and defenseless Papyrus. The bastard would have no idea what was coming and Sans would make sure that this monster knew exactly what it was like to wander around without his soul!    
   
His fingers scrupulously work their way through the gap in the skeletons ribs between spine and sternum, the least forceful opening to the chest cavity. It would be easier to use his magic to call the soul forward, but there was no telling if Paps would wake from that restrictive sensation. Carefully Sans coils his wrist forward, trying to grab that floating red appendage.   
   
His eyes dart back and forth between the soul and Papyrus’ face to make sure the skeleton was firmly asleep, his knuckle accidentally touches the base of Papyrus’s spine and elicits a small groan in his sleep. Sans stays still, playing possum despite the fact Boss would very obviously notice a whole arm stuck up his ribs if he woke right now.   
   
The monster settles down and his breathing returned to normal, so Sans tries again. But his fingertips just barely manage to brush against the bottom of the soul. Sans gaped. For all the times his height failed him this was the most disappointing. How could his reach be just an _inch_ too short!?    
   
He outstretches his fingertips again to encircle the soul and fell short, leaving only a fluttering trace of his touch. Papyrus moans.   
   
Sans’ eyes whip to watch the others face. Papyrus’ chin turns up and his spine arch slightly from the foreign presence. Its a sound Sans has never heard before ( outside of a few grunts when he was thrusting into Sans) the sound of his noisy moan was new.  
   
Curious, Sans dips his fingers against the skeletons spine and strokes the bone there, receiving the same guttural wet sound of a moan.   
   
Sans repeats the motion, becoming bolder and curious as his hands trail up the scarred bones and he hears the same weakened moans dripping with lust. His fingertips brush past a particularly sensitive set of nerves on the base of his spine and the sounds that produce from Papyrus’ raspy breath are overwhelmingly kinky.   
   
Sans strokes it again and again, and finally takes the whole length of the spine between his thumb and forefinger and strokes up against the curve. Pap spasms, his spine arching slightly from the stimulation. Sans would never have thought that was a weak spot for the other, and yet the small of his back is intensely sensitive to just a few strokes from Sans. If he gave Paps a massage the monster was sure to melt in his hands.   
   
As his hands explore the curvature of cracks and scars, the small moans Paps make become deeply lewder and slickened with the drool from his, now, summoned tongue. ( And it's not the only organ Paps has managed to create in his sleep…) The deep crimson glow in his pants is starting to wake up, though Paps was such a deep sleeper.   
   
After seeing how weak Papyrus was to just a few feathery touches, Sans wanted to see more. He slid his hand down beneath the buckle of Paps pants and felt the heat of the excited shaft in his hands pulsate. _It was already this erect???_ Just a small squeeze and the tip was already overflowing with juices. Sans pumped shallowly, testing the waters to hear what kind of sounds Boss made.   
   
Wait a sec...!  
   
Why was he trying to give this asshole a handy?! The bastard didn’t deserve it! Boss was sick! Right now his main concern should be trying to get help! Sans withdrew his hands and went to wipe the slick of his fingers on his pants. - But he wasn't wearing any. Looking down, he wonders if he should wipe it on Boss’ shirt- but it was his only clothing right now and it would be embarrassing to have the stain of red magic on his shirt. Sans gulps nervously, drawing the fingers to his mouth. Maybe it will taste-  
   
_No~ No! No!_ He shook his head. It was one thing for Paps to force him to swallow… another to do it on his own! _Stars_ he was becoming just as sick as this asshole!  Sans bent and wipes his hand on Papyrus’ pants. Maybe Papyrus could be embarrassed for once!  He gleefully imagines how the maids would react like - to find Papyrus passed out, half naked, in the middle of the woods, with jizz on the front of his pants.  Heh… Sans almost felt better.   
   
While he would run inside for help, Sans decided to have his blaster to keep tabs on Papyrus. That way he could know if anything knew happened.  He prepares his magic to coalesce but when he summons the blaster this time it was full size again. If he tried he couldn’t even wrap his arms around the floating skulls jaw. Compared to when he could hold the blaster like a puppy just yesterday. Sans was taken back by how large the bone blaster had gotten, just by handing his magic back the blaster looks so massive. Plans changed, seeing that.   
   
Instead of going inside for help, Sans could carry Papyrus himself! Ha! _He wasn’t so useless after all!_  He directs the blaster to lie down so he could roll Papyrus over him. With two or three tries (and a thoroughly tumbled and soddy Papyrus) they finally were able to get Paps on the blasters head. The blaster floats ahead of Sans, already knowing where to put the large skeleton.   
   
He held the cottage door open for the beast and watches as it shrugs Paps off on the sofa and then lies on the floor by his feet. The nature of the blaster hadn’t changed at all since they were kids. He wonders why it remains loyal to Paps… even knowing what Sans knew. With its job complete, it fades away contently.   
   
Sans sucks in a breath and leaves Paps to head up to the maids quarters upstairs. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading to the end!!! Please give lots of love to my co-writer Dandelionsea <3 they are helping me to finish this fic and inspiring me with their awesome writing!  
> Love you all ~ see ya next update~


	11. Sick Day

He hadn’t thoroughly explored to know which room had which monster so he nervously taps at each door and waits for any sound before coming inside. At last he finds a room that belongs to someone, though Sans has already opened the door due to their silence. He saw the sleeping figure of someone under a heap of blankets. Hesitant, Sans stays by the door and knocks the solid frame again louder. _“Muffet? … Nezu?”_ He whispers, hoping one of them would respond.   
   
After a minute more, Sans steps into the room and stands beside their bed.  “ _Muffet?”_ No answer.  “ _Nezu?”_  Against his better judgment, he shook the shoulder of the blanket monster, getting a quick slap from the back of three hands. Ah~ Muffet.   
   
“Wha- who-???” She sits up in bed and rubs her bleary eyes before they focus on Sans. “What is it, deary? Why are you up so early?”  
   
“Boss walked out and tried to drown himself in a mud pile.”   
   
“Huah-?”  
   
"He’s downstairs on the sofa… I’m not sure what to do.”   
   
Muffet didn’t seem any more awake than a moment ago- but she sat up out of bed and motions for Sans to move out her way. She had a case by the bedside with contact lenses that she struggles to put into each eye. After the third contact grossly sets in place, she gave up and just closes the other eyes with sleepy tears welting in their corners. Her hair was a messy afro and the night gown she wore went down to her ankles. Sans wonders if he could ask for one as he scratched his bare ass. He’s glad Muffet didn’t comment on his own appearance- half naked and  drenched in mud. Paps would be no better, Sans reminded himself.   
   
Muffet puts on a pair of bunny slippers and goes downstairs with Sans to investigate. Sure enough, Papyrus is passed out on the living room sofa. She goes to check on him, first checking his temperature with the back of her palm. Sans watches carefully, unsure of how to take care of a sick monster. Luckily Paps never got sick when they were little, though Sans would have passing colds. If he just slept long enough, usually the coughing would subside.  
   
“No good… it's gotten higher.” Muffet whispers after a moment, then she looks to Sans. “You... You’re covered in mud!” Sans’ hands immediately pull the shirt lower on his frame, stretching out the fabric. “Did you go outside?” Sans nods. “And you came back with Master Papyrus?” Sans nods again.   
   
Muffet sucks at her inner lip. “Take care of him. I’ll wake Nezu.” She scatters away, climbing steps two at a time until Sans had to physically stop her, gripping the end of her gown.   
   
“What do you mean? How do I take care of him?”  
   
All her eyes blink at once, slowly, as if trying to process how stupid Sans could possibly be. Her shoulders sag as she relieves a breath and tries from the top to explain. “Just keep him comfortable.  Prop up a pillow under his neck and put a damp towelette on his forehead.”  
   
“Kay?” Sans nods and the two went off in opposite directions, Muffet upstairs and Sans to the sofa.  He first pulls out a pillow from under Papyrus’ butt and tries to slide it under his head. But just moving Papyrus took so much work. Sans strains to pick him up by his shoulder and quickly replace the gap with a pillow. It was a sight straight out of Indiana Jones, except Boss’ head was continuously slamming down on the sofa cushion because Sans kept missing.  It's a surprise that didn’t wake him right up.   
   
Next Sans tottled over to the kitchen and looks for a towelette. _Towelette. Towelette… What the hell was that?_ He grabs a paper napkin and wet it under the water, trying to hold the wet scraps together so he could plop it down on Papyrus’s angry looking brow.   _There! Much better!_  
   
Maybe? Sans honestly couldn't tell. Papyrus just looked uncomfortable and now wet napkin was dripping on the sofa. But that didn’t matter because it didn’t take long for Muffet and Nezu to come back downstairs. The two are fully dressed and come to see Papyrus’ condition. The two were absolutely useless in helping him earlier so they call an expert on the phone and then call for a cab. It arrives within the hour and Sans is dumbfounded by the taxi in front of the cabin.   
   
“Can I come with-?” Sans asks, sounding hopeful for the first time in what felt like years. If he could just make it to the backseat he could beg the taxi driver for help. _Hell,_ the guy might even take pity on Sans and help aid his escape! As long as one person knew…   
   
“Sorry, someone has to stay here and watch Papyrus.” Nezu pats his head. “Besides… dressed like that you’ll only cause a scene.” She left the house and got into the car first. Sans enviously watches from the window. Muffet came by next to say goodbye. But Sans had lost interest after that first put down. He doesn’t give Muffet eye contact as she starts to talk.   
   
“We won't be long, deary. We’re just going to the pharmacy to pick up some medication. I called a doctor to come by but he’s coming in the late evening. Keep an eye on Papyrus, and change his towelette frequently. And if anything happens give us a call okay?”  
   
 _Call?_ That piques his interest. Sans turn his head to look and wasn’t at all disappointed. “Okay so ~ press this button to go to my contact list. And then call Nezu. Okay? I’ll be with her the whole time, so use this to call us okay?” She slips the bedazzled phone in his hand and Sans dumbly nods again. It felt so heavy… “Oh~ and I’ll get you a change of clothes while we’re out. What's your favorite color?”  
   
Sans shrugs his shoulders. The color of clothes hardly matter to him, anything would be better than wearing Boss’ shirt a moment longer! “Anything’s okay with me!” Sans smiles, his digits clutch tightly at the phone. “Thank you, Muffet!”   
   
“Be a good boy~” She said before leaving as well. Sans stares at the door. He heard the engine of the car outside start and drive off and then he was finally left in complete silence with only Boss’ soft snores to punctuate the dawn. He was holding a phone. A real… phone.   
   
Sans felt a surge of power emanating from the object in his hands. Muffet - that fool! She had just given him what he wanted the most! _Escape! Freedom!!!_ Sans could call the cops! He could call the monster embassy! He could call an uber and be anywhere in the world! He could -  
   
Boss groans in his sleep, turning to his side and the wet mass of napkins flops to the ground with a wet squelch. _“Nn.. Snns…”_ The breathy whisper was just loud enough to hear from here. Sans slid out of his chair and grabs another batch of paper napkins for Boss.   
   
He could escape _after_ Paps got better…   
   
\---  
   
The first thing boss is aware of is a harsh pounding behind his brow - followed immediately by a hurricane of sickness coming straight from his gut. He has just enough time to thrust his shoulders around to throw his head over the side of the cushions, messing up the expensive rug with sick.  
   
“heh… welp. i’m not cleanin’ that up.”  
   
Boss growls, eyes cast upward to see the swaying, blurred face of his dove staring back at him. They are in the living room, that much he can tell, however through the mosaic lense the world has seemed to cast itself in Boss can hardly tell what expression his Dove holds.  
   
“Where are the maids?” He snarls, wiping his mouth off with a palm before throwing himself back onto the couch. “And why am I not in bed??” He _hates_ sleeping on couches - or anywhere that isn’t a plush, comfortable mattress, really. And the couch feels strange now, as if the pillows beneath him are turning over themselves, spinning his head around and around. It’s comparable to being upside down on a ship in rough waters - His hands grip the sheets tightly as he swallows back another round of vomiting.  
   
Through the vertigo Boss can make out the soft sounds of his previous bird’s breathing; the tone almost… amused.   
   
“yer not fuckin’ movin’ till the maids get from shoppin’, b,” He says. “i ain’t lookin’ t’ get spewed on…” The tone isn’t what Boss is used to from his little pet at all; relaxed and self assured. Faintly, Boss hopes that perhaps he will be privileged to this side of his Dove more often now. His eyes blink slowly as he attempts to face Sans once more.  
   
“...Shopping…?” He repeats slowly. Of course; they were in need of supplies anyways, and now with him falling ill they will have to take a trip to the pharmacy to pick up medicine. Boss grumbles, annoyed that he is now alone with his Dove yet too incapacitated to do anything. He grinds his teeth, realizing just how sore his throat has become. “Fetch me some water, Dove…” He commands, forcing his remaining strength into the sound.   
   
His dove scoffs, and for a moment Boss is worried that he will refuse; because he could now, couldn’t he? Boss is somewhat at the other’s mercy - even if his Dove is smart enough to realize the futility of murder and escape he can still choose now to make Boss’ life absolute _hell_ for the hour or two that they are alone. After a few minutes of silence Boss considers asking again, though he is caught between attempting a more forceful, threatening tone or simply adding a ‘please’. He doesn’t know how either would affect his Dove’s training, but before he has to make a decision he hears a soft _scroooooot_ of a chair going back against the wood and boney feet tapping against the floor.  
   
Yes. Good. His Dove is well trained indeed.  
   
Sans grumbles as he fills the cup in his hands, not entirely sure why he’s bothering to give this asshole anything. It’s not like he deserves it… Maybe later Sans can get a few favors out of this - yeah, something good. He doubts that Boss will let him have anything to aid in escape, but maybe he can use this as leverage for something nice…  
   
Not that there is going to be a later; as soon as he hands the water off to Boss Sans fully intends to make a phone call to the police. Or maybe 411, that way he is guaranteed to find someone who can help him. Surely a taxi service or a pizza delivery guy will give him a hand.   
   
Sans giggles, hardly noticing when his hand becomes soaked with the overflowing water. He swears under his breath and quickly shuts off the faucet, pattering back into the room with boss and shoving the cup into his head. The water sloshes on them both with the motion, but Sans hardly cares. Boss has already taken in half of the glass and set it down on the floor by the time Sans has turned for the door.   
   
“have a good drink, asshole,” He mutters on his way out.   
   
“Dove?” Boss calls after him, voice as sharp and commanding as always, yet small. Sans’ fingers had brushed the doorknob; he sighs, looking back at Boss.   
   
“what?” Sans snaps, glaring at the skeleton lying prone on the couch. There is a long pause, as if boss is trying to collect his thoughts that are rapidly boiled out of him with the fever.   
   
“...Is there any food?” Boss finally says, thoughts having obviously shifted since he caught Sans’ attention. Sans sighs sharply.  
   
“no, boss - muffet n’ nezu are out gettin’ groceries, remember?”   
   
“...Ah,” He says, settling back down into the pillows. Sans is once again struck by just how calm and peaceful this monster can look while being such a… well… a _monster_. Sans is ready to turn around once more, hand grazing the handle yet again when-  
   
“Dove?”   
   
Another sharp sigh.   
   
“Yes? Boss?” Sans clips.   
   
Another pause.  
   
“... … … Thank you… for the water.”  
   
Sans flinches, eyes darting back to take in the face of his captor. Boss is facing away from Sans, but the words seemed sincere. Sans’ sockets narrow, wondering how this will somehow be turned against him. But the other doesn’t move, settled deeply into the couch.   
   
“...whatever,” Sans mutters to the sleeping skeleton, neither expecting nor wanting further conversation. He pushes open the door, letting the little chimes above it ring as he heads out onto the porch.   
   
The porch is rather simple - having only a few wooden panels and potted plants, though the thing that has Sans’ attention at the moment is the swinging bench suspected from the roof. It seems a bit ricoty, but after testing it with an open palm he deems it safe enough to support his weight. Sans pulls himself onto the cushions, kicking against as much as his short legs can to rock himself. The motion is soothing - if he had time he would love to take a nap here. He can already feel himself drifting off as it is.  
   
Sans shakes his head, leveling his eyes down at the far-too-glittery phone. His savior - his ticket out of here. His one shot to get _away_ from this place and be his own person for the first time since he was out of stripes!!  
   
Taking a deep breath, Sans presses his fingers against the buttons. Four. One. One. The dial tone rings in his ear as a friendly woman’s voice voice speaks over the phone. “Local Directory, how may I assist you?”   
   
Sans’ soul picks up pace, his mouth frozen as he tries to form his words. A person - a real, live person who isn’t part of this fucked up house!!! His fingers tighten around the plastic shell of the phone, a few glitter beads plopping to the ground as he tries to find the right words.   
   
“uh... um… h-hi yes…” He starts, taking a deep breath. Okay, focus Sans - this isn’t hard. Just say you need a taxi service and get the _fuck_ out of here. He swallows hard, steadying his hands and voice to continue. “i was w-wondering… i-i-if you... i need-”  
   
“Deary~?”   
   
Sans’ soul seizes as the hotline shuts off, replaced by Muffet’s sickly sweet voice. The phone… of course she’d be monitoring it. How could he think for even a moment that Muffet would just _give_ him the means to his escape. She’s rude, but she’s not _stupid._  
   
The impatient humming over the line intensifies, Muffet obviously waiting for Sans to explain himself. When he refuses to speak (what could he say???) she sighs. “I do hope you weren’t trying to leave the house with our Sir’s permission… he would be awfully mad if he woke up and you weren’t home~”   
   
“uh... n-no?” Sans denies weakly. He wracks his head for an excuse, anything that would keep him from getting punished. God he hopes that she doesn’t decide to tell Boss. Finally, something clicks and Sans speaks. “I was… uh… j-just trying to order food. Boss is hungry and I haven’t had breakfast yet…” Sans taps his fingers against the bench nervously. “I c-couldn’t find any take out menus…”  
   
There is a long pause over the phone - no doubt Muffet is trying to assess whether it is worth calling out Sans’ bs. It’s a pretty weak excuse, even if Sans can feel his metaphorical stomach rumbling at the thought of a hot pizza. Stars when was the last time he _ate_?  
   
Finally Muffet speaks up over the phone. “They are on the third drawer on the left from the fridge, deary. You must not have been looking very hard.” She says. Sans blinks. What is she talking about… OH! Take out menus… did she seriously believe him?? “Order italian - Sir loves anything with pasta in it. We’ll be home in a few hours.”  
   
The phone shuts off and Sans sighs, heading into the kitchen. Welp, at least he’ll get something to eat out of all this…  
   
He began dialing the phone for a pizzeria. When the line connects and someone answers Sans almost drops the cell in pure shock. The voice was so close… so real. He felt giddy for a moment and his voice caught in his throat. Begging for help would do no good, not when Muffet was observing. Feeling helpless, Sans winces his eyes shut. He just had to order something to eat. Simple.   
   
The words were a jumble as Sans tore open the menu again and looked for something with a picture. He orders about ten different things; three types of pizza, pasta, garlic knots, drinks and subs, a dessert that looks like a giant baked cookie. Whatever if it was edible and had a picture Sans read it straight from the pamphlet, not caring at all for the price since Boss was super rich. A lot of this human food was a new experience he never tried before… and _stars_ those pictures looked so good he was already salivating.   
   
But then the most difficult part of the call came when the pizzeria asked where to deliver it all. Sans stuttered. He quickly went outside and stared at the front of the house for a number. Or address or anything at all! None. He went back inside and looked for a scrap of mail. Nothing. At last, his eyes fell on Fell and Sans gulps back a bit of fear at waking the monster. But it had to be done! For the sake of his stomach sacrifices must be made!!  
   
“Boss.” Sans whispered. “Boss? Are you asleep again?” He pokes his arm and quickly jumps back...  when Boss doesn't respond Sans pokes him again. “Hey… sleepy. Boss. Boss? Bossss...” Sans pestered in louder and louder whispers.   
   
At last, there was a tired groan from inside the sofa cushions where Papyrus had contorted himself in pain. He sluggishly sat up and curled over on the side of the sofa. Sans raised an eyebrow, wondering how such a prideful and stuck up monster act like such a weak baby at times. He was just about to open his mouth and ask for his Dove to sing to him. Sans could sense it, but he cut him off before that demand was uttered.   
   
“Boss, I’m ordering pizza. But I don’t know where to tell the delivery guy to go… What's this address?”    
   
Suddenly both of Papyrus’s eyelights flared up red with the flame of his magic. The skeleton waved out his hand and smacked the phone right from Sans’ ear. The small phone clatters to the floor- a small gemstone falling out of place before a long glowing femur impales it into the floorboard. Papyrus pants heavily- out of breath for using up his magic in such a pointless way.   
   
“What the fuck!? That was Muffets!!” Sans’ jaw hung open. “I was getting us lunch, asshole!” He flung out his arms to attack Papyrus with pathetic slaps but he’s held at bay as his soul turns blue and Sans is slid further away from the taller skeleton. He angrily stomps his foot on the passing floor and crosses his arms together until he’s reached the end of his short trip across the floor.   
   
“You don’t need a phone, Dove.” Papyrus holds the side of his head and looks down at himself, shirking back in disgust at the mud on his bone and the smell of sweat. He felt exhaustion seeping into his bones and the nightmares from this morning were still ringing in his skull. He looks up at his Dove and stares silently at Sans for a long time -  (making the smaller skeleton uncomfortable) - as if trying to distinguish reality from his dreams.   
   
Before Sans can say anything more, Papyrus is already up and calling for the maids. “Muffet.” He lets go of Sans’s soul. Letting the skeleton fall to the ground. “Prepare a meal for my Dove, I’m taking a showe-”  His knees buckle as he stands and without warning, Papyrus fell back down into the sofa cushions.   
   
“The maids ain't here, Boss.” Sans whispers careful of his word choice, he tiptoed his way back to his brother's side and laid a hand on his knee. “You’re running a high fever. They went to get you medicine a-and a doctor too.” Slowly (because Boss was a dangerous wounded animal while he was sick) Sans reaches around Papyrus and drags the blanket back over his shoulders. “You need to sleep and sweat out whatever this is… kay?”   
   
Papyrus raised a brow at such a soft tone from his Dove. Where was the fighting? The cursing? Not that he minded the gentle treatment, he was much too weak and dizzy to stand on his own. So Papy accepted his place among the pillows and scrunched into a ball, letting Sans place a pile of soggy paper napkins on his head.   
   
Then, without prompting, song filled the house again. A lullaby from his Dove was sung, just for him. Trying to get the insomniac to sleep. Coupled with soft rubbing against the side of his skull. Sans sat on the edge of the sofa, reciting the old lyrics. Just as Paps had accepted his place being babied by his pet and he closes his eyes to the lul of that nostalgic song, there was an insistent ringing in the house. It disturbs Papyrus and the sick skeleton lets out a small murmur.  
   
Sans growls. He almost had the other to sleep, but part of him feels relief with the realization there was yet another phone in the house. Papyrus’ phone. He still had another chance. Odds were he wouldn’t bug his own phone. Unlike that paranoid Muffet. The ringing continues but Sans doesn’t bother to get it. Petting Papyrus’ skull was calming the other back to a peaceful sleep. Maybe… he could just shelve escaping and order some breakfast for them. He wouldn’t mind sitting here and singing to Paps until the delivery arrived. Somehow singing was much more freeing when he wasn’t locked in a tiny cage.   
   
After ages pass in deafening musical beeps and boops the default ringing finally stops, the person on the other end hung up. But it only took a moment for whoever it was to call back - apparently on a personal phone because the ringtone was replaced with an obnoxious orchestra a moment later.  
   
Crimson eyelight snapped back open. “Dove.” His eye lights flashed dangerously and narrowed to stare at his rebellious love. Sans knows that look well enough to know Boss was planning something. There is a pause of hesitance before he ushers a command. The gears were turning but his sickness was making it slow to catch up. In truth, Papyrus was wondering if his Dove will help him, despite how Paps smashed Muffet’s phone to dust just a moment before. “Can you get my phone from our room?”  
   
Sans nods his head, pushing off against the sofa to retrieve the phone. He follows the sound of the ringtone to enter Boss’ bedroom. The room Boss affectionately called theirs. Up on the desk was the cellular phone. Sans grabs it just as the ringtone died, displayed on its screen was “Grillby”. Sans gulps.   
   
He came back out and hands Boss his phone without a word. It was none of his business and he doesn’t want to get involved at all with the flames man again (it would be nice if that part of his life remained a nightmare) but Boss doesn’t make the phone call. Instead, Boss palms the cell and stares at it. As if willing Grillby to call back or leave a text.   
   
After a long time passes with no outward results, Sans wonders if he can ask Boss to use his phone to call for pizza. “So… if you’re not going to make a call can I-”  
   
“Grillby asked me to call him as soon as we arrived.” Sans immediately pouts at the ceiling, his words ignored.  
   
 _We’re going to do your think now aren’t we? It's always about you ain’t it bastard…_  
   
 _“_ But if I call him now he’ll know I’m sick and he’ll rush down here. He’s always been an overprotective big brother.”   
   
 _Big br-.???_. Sans clutched at his chest.   
   
“When I was a kid, my big bro would read me Fluffy Bunny when I was sick.” Papyrus goes on, oblivious of the crisis Sans is having.   
   
 _Since when was Paps ever sick underground? Wha- the hell is Fluffy Bunny?_  
   
“Grillbz hated reading ...  but he would always make time for his lil bro. He wanted me to grow up strong. Strong enough to break the barrier. …So having those tender moments at home, reading and listening to the rain in waterfall… those tranquil days were nice.”   
   
Sans felt a knife slip through his gut and twist. _Sure, he wasn’t the best brother but… replacing him with Grillby was a betrayal he never expected. Just how CLOSE were those two??? To call that hot head a … Brother?!?_  Though in truth, Sans just as easily called the fireman a ‘lover’ once. Grillby (Sans begrudgingly admitted to himself) had been a pillar of support in both their lives… but if he could easily manipulate and lie to Sans how could he be someone so special to Papyrus?!  
   
“This cottage was one of the first things Grillby and I built.” Papyrus reminisces. His eyes become droopy and the phone is clutched to his chest. There was no way Sans could slyly get that away from him now. He gave up, for the time being, and listened to Paps sleepy talk.   
   
“It started small... just me and him here in the summer. Mount Ebott was right in our backyard… ( _yawn_ ) our past, scenically overlooking our future.”   
   
“Which one is that?” Sans asks suddenly, breaking up Papyrus’ mumblings. Mount Ebott sparked his hope to escape. It was the only home he knew…   _Sure,_ this place was _home-ish_ with its cozy rooms and bright decor, but even their old tent in the dump was more lived in. More…? Sans didn’t know the word. He just thought… maybe if he could get back there things would change.   
   
“Which mountain is the underground?” Sans pressed again, unsure if Papyrus had already fallen asleep. Sure enough, a bony finger points at an awkward angle above his head and to the right. Boss doesn’t even bother using a window to look and it looks like its only a vague guess from where he sat. Or maybe he knew the direction well enough from where the cabin was built. But one thing's for sure, Mount Ebott was _definitely_ nearby.   
   
“My big bro Grillbz- ” _Sans winced against the misuse of that word. “-_ used to take me fishing on the lake here. We’d drink hot coco at night and he would stay awake playing puzzle games. He had a ( _yawn_ ) whole stack of them back in Waterfall. Shame they were all … left...be..hnnn”   
   
 _Behind?_ Sans raises a crooked brow at the unfinished sentence. Boss was fast asleep again, the fever consuming his mind. To be honest, Sans had never seen his bro sick before. Hearing all this great praise for an elder brother who would read to him… and play games with him… and drink hot coco…  well- it left a nasty burn in the back of his throat. Like gagging on a pit of anger, a clumped up ball of guilt and rage he couldn’t quite swallow.   
   
The underground wasn’t a symbol of home, nor escape. Not anymore. It was a relic. It was a home to Papyrus, a childhood home the skeleton would never get back. A _proper_ childhood that Sans was never able to give his little bro.   
   
His little… … uhm… Boss?  
   
Boss looks so peaceful when he’s resting. Soft snores and tears stain his cheeks. Sleepy words become audible again but Sans ignores it and draws the blanket to Boss’ neck to fuck him in tight.   
   
His mind was made up. Even if Sans was still doubting he could still save his little brother, his mind was made up. Somewhere on the mountain outside… there was the old underground. Nd Sans would go there!  
   
Sans runs to the bedroom, pulling on the lace stockings given to him as a disguise, and grabs the empty garbage bag from the trash. He rolls it into the top of his stocking, like a pocket,  and searches the room for other supplies. Anything, really.  
   
Shoes? Nope.  Backpack? Nope.  Pants? Nope. Pen and Paper to write a note? Nope.  His search comes up empty. All he had was the maid uniform, sans the stockings, which Sans figured would be better than walking barefoot - and- a flashlight he found on the top of the closet.   
   
If Papyrus wanted that damn book and stupid puzzle games, then by Asgore’s fluffy beard he was going to get his stupid brother those dumb toys! How dare Grillby replace him as an older brother!? How dare Papyrus say the _name_ brother!   
   
In the pit of his vacant stomach, Sans felt something akin to jealousy and a blind rage. Why did he even care if Papyrus regarded him as a brother any more? It honestly didn’t matter, and it was confusing to think of Boss as anything other than a kidnapper… but Sans hated it. He hated this confusion and guilt of not raising his little brother to be a better person.   
   
He knew the maids would be coming back soon… and Paps wasn’t doing well right now. So sand had to come back as soon as possible. He activated his magic, setting up a checkpoint in the living room to warp back too. That way he could get back fast... especially if something troublesome happened. His magic felt so loose and free without the magic dampener collar on his neck. Sans almost surprised himself when the magic seeped into the floorboards so fast and the spell was completed. A tiny shortcut.   
   
So while the monster was asleep on the sofa, Sans quietly and quickly left the cabin to begin his arduous hike to Ebott. ...whichever one that was.   
   
The general direction Pap pointed at left Sans to still choose a random mountain in the distance.  He had begun walking towards one, hoping beyond hope it was the right one. Thankfully, Sans had all the dumb luck in the world when he wasn’t trying to escape.   
   
After just a few minutes of brisk jogging, he found a path leading towards Ebott. - A path laid out with picket signs and danger up ahead road blocks. Sans slid past them. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this far!!! (♡´艸`) ~mwah
> 
> DandelionSea worked really hard helping me write ♥ so please go check out some of their works too ~   
> (*≧▽≦)ﾉｼ)) Like Bunnies Don't Lay Eggs... 
> 
> You guys are the best~ Stay awesome :>


	12. Voices in the Dark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning!!! like - implied lowkey pedophilia mention? I dont think its deserving of a tag... but Sans goes through grillbys closet and he has childrens underwear and other stuff. Now your prepared. If your not... probbly dont read?

The hike up wasn’t so bad. The mountain wasn’t that steep and had a small trail that still had not grown back from thousands of pilgriming monsters stomping the road. Sans had ripped his clothes on loose thorns and branches, but he finally reached the top. It must have been the top because from the mouth of the mountain there was only a deep dark hole.

It didn’t look like a safe place to go down. It was dark and ominous and just a few steps forward into those depths would drown out all the light. The path was cast in complete darkness and Sans would have no idea what he was getting into. Deep into the mouth of the underground was filled with the undergrowth of vines and thorns. Its very presence acted as a deterrent for people to stay away. Below, there would only be  _ danger _ .

Danger of survival. Danger of dusting. Danger of the unknown. Even if the underground had been abandoned and monsters headed to the surface to be free, there was still something eerie about returning to the caves below.  Sans wasn’t sure he wanted to go back down. He sat on the top step and reached for his flashlight, pointing it at the bottommost step where light reached but all it revealed was an infinite column of more stairs. The underground was so far, far, far below him he wondered how it was possible anyone managed to escape at all.

He butt-slid a step down, creeping down the narrow stairs that once were the barrier to the surface. The sun was already high, he had to hurry if he was going to get back before the maids. As soon as he got what he wanted he could teleport back to his checkpoint in the living room before anyone knew.  

Sans crept down the stairs, one at a time, careful of the steep incline. The battery wouldn’t last long. So Sans shut it off, sliding down in the dark with nothing but his butt as a guide, when at last the bottom stair revealed a flat landing. Sans got up and turned on his flashlight. There was only a white hallway now, which he walked through quickly. His torn stockings and bare toes scraped against the hard cement, unlike the soft dirt of the forest.

The hallway leads out into a room he’s never seen before… where flowers and dirt cake what looks like a throne room. Then from there, it leads out to a great hallway with golden arched windows and checkered orange tiles.

There’s sign of a struggle from long ago, dried blood splattered on the walls, cracked windows, and dust on the floor. Among the dust was a crumpled pile of clothes and shoes. Sans picked it up with his forefinger and thumb and waved it away from himself, billowing a cloud of the dead. But it was worth it for a warm pair of pants and shoes. He wasn’t exactly a fashion  statement in the maid uniform and baggy khakis pants, but it was better than being ass naked.

The underground looks very different up on the trodden path. Usually, he and his brother stuck to the shadows and never lingered in one place too long. Waterfall and Snowdin were the only places they were really familiar with, so Sans became lost traversing the long halls and puzzles set up in new home, and hotland.

Luckily, the core was still running. It had to run or the volcanic activity in the mountain would spike, so it continued to process energy for monsters that no longer lived here. It turned on lights and kept machines running, and kept the lava pools low so that eruptions could be maintained.

 

Which was good because at one point he had to ride air vents to cross the lava flows and Sans didn’t think the machines would be working anymore. When the hot steam blew up his legs he sighed comfortably knowing he, at last, had pants. The hot air blew him across gap to gap and eventually Sans walked far enough in the caves to see the first signs of Waterfall up ahead. Small luminescent mushrooms were dotted along the path- leading further to an overgrown and over expanding darkness ahead.

Echo flowers had spread out and grown even here at the entrance to Waterfalls caverns. Sans bent and listened to them, only hearing the drops of dew from the stalactites above. No one had been here in years. As he walked past them they recorded the taps of his feet and made Sans anxious about the feet following him. He took off his sneakers again, placing them against the side of the road in hopes for a more quieter approach. The flowers remained silent for most of his trip.

That is… until he reached the outcropping where the river flowed past the flowers in a large circle and ran down and out through the small cracks below… probably linking up to that giant lake outside the mountain.  But this spot was familiar.

He had said goodbye to Papyrus here.

Sans stops his trip, waddling through the shallow water to go the small isle full of flowers, allowing himself a moment to be nostalgic. A moment of reflection. Sans sat in the same spot he’d been in last time, give or take the overgrown flowers crowding him. He dropped Papyrus’ dust down this river, wrapped tightly in his little brother’s red scarf.

Looking back on the fond memory seemed like a joke. Especially now since he has the insight to know Papyrus is still alive. So whose ashes did he send down here? He almost felt like laughing but it’s a good thing he didn’t because a small whisper rang past his eardrum.

“sans”  Papyrus whispered,  _ no _ , his voice was so weak and broken it wasn’t the sharp  _ sush  _ of a whisper, Papyrus was crying. Sans looked behind him, hearing the shrill voice of his little brother. His younger, more vulnerable brother, who still needed protecting. Who still wet the bed and cried about everything. His little brother that hated the sight of blood and yet killed to keep Sans safe and crawled into his arms and cried about murdering some jackass who tried to murder them first.  “sans, im sorry. I’m sorry I’m not stronger. I can’t do this alone. I can’t do this without. Without…” Theres a hic caught in his throat. A mixture of hiccups and snot.

Sans knelt down on his hands and knees and shimmied over to the nearest flower, pressing his ear up against its lowly echoes. Away from the main path, the messages remained intact, though faded by the constant sound of rushing water. It was as if the message was corrupted by the noise, creating a gradient of flowing water over his little brothers weakened voice. 

Sans hung onto the flower. Closing his eyes tightly, imagining his little brother coming here only hours after Sans had left. Or days. … He accidentally brushes up against another flower.  “Hey sans” That didn’t sound like Papyrus. “Its been a while. I’m sorry I haven’t come as often as before. Grillby says its unhealthy to come down here. So he’s been keeping me busy with sports and training. I just got to sneak away for a bit… I wanted to tell you about this cool attack I learned. … I’m sure it would have been able to protect you. I just…” Sans stares at the flower with the same intensity and anticipation that elders often emualate as they stare at a radio. He felt like shaking the flower for more. What was this prepubesent nerdy voice from his brother? How long had that been recorderded?! “Oh, it looks like Grillbz noticed I’m missing. I have to go. See ya sans.”

“Pa-“ Sans cupped his mouth, horrified that his small outburst would have been copied over onto the flowers.  After a long moment, holding his breath in fear, he hears nothing from the flowers. Confirming his voice didn’t echoe back onto them. 

Sans kneeled over the next cluster of flowers, poking one to wake it up when he hears Paps voice again. Aged and stronger. “Sans, something amazing happened today.Somehow… I unlocked the door to the underground. Everyone’s packing up. … Ready to go out onto the surface.  ..Nyeh heh… me too. I guess this is goodbye. I think I have to go on wi..without you.”

Sans chokes up.  How many times had Papyrus been down here? How many times had he spoken to the same wilting flowers day in and day out? Mumbling to himself, he must have over writing messages  again and again only to whisper to the next generation of lilies. The data saved by the flowers isn’t genetic, the oldest flowers are already wilting and drying up, unable to repeat new sounds anymore. While the youngest batch f flowers glow brilliantly and record audio so crisp Sans is afraid his breathing might be enough to trigger the echo.

Sans pokes around. Listening at the eldest of flowers and moving up  through the stalks surrounding the island, uncovering layers upon layers of apologies. And then… it all just stops. Papyrus stopped coming down here. He let go.

Sans felt a pang in his soul, a yearning for his innocent little brother. Yet at the same time, he felt the urgency of moving on from this place. He’d wasted enough time in this spot. His ‘little brother’ wouldn’t be happy if he discovered a missing Dove. And Sans wouldn’t be too happy with the megalomaniac monster restraining his freedom again.

Sans had thought he moved on from his brother… but listening to those voices opened old scars in his soul. His brother was alive… technicly. But his little brother- his sweet innocent Pappy – was dead.  And just like that Sans let go too.He let go of the childish dream that he could reunite with his paps. The only thing he had left was to serve Boss. And that was enough. He got up from the spot and started walking again, he couldn’t waste more time here.

\---

Up ahead was Grillby’s home, between hotland and waterfall. Sans recognized it from the few times Grillby took him to his actual bed.  (Gosh was Paps just a room away the whole time?) Sans felt disturbed by that. If only he wasn’t so overcome with grief… he could have found Papyrus years ago.

The monsters house resembled a pumpkin on sticks, the crosshatched roof gave it a warm puffy loaf of bread appearance. Sans’ stomach aches for something warm and crunchy right now… maybe he could steal some food from Grillby’s old fridge. (If anything was still edible.) The front door is locked, but Sans doesn’t care for niceties or stealth. The underground has been abandoned for so long, no one would care if he broke into a house or two.

Sans stills his magic with a long breath and summons his Blaster. This time it's just big enough size is something between the tiny blaster and giant ‘Papyrus hauling cart’ blaster. His magic was finding balance the more he used it, which was a small comfort since getting home relied so much on his shortcuts. The more practice and control he got, the better it was for him.  “Blow open the door.” He commands, but the overly friendly Gaster Blaster just licks at the side of his head without the presence of immediate danger. Seems like the thing wanted to play.

Despite wanting the door open, Sans rolls his eyes and pets the floating skull. To be fair, it had been a while since Sans actually called the blaster for something other than a chore and years in slavery didn’t allow Sans the luxury of using his magic. The blaster must have been lonely.

“I’ll let you stay out this time if you can blast open that door? Kay buddy?” Sans scratched the underside of the blasters chin but he quickly withdrew as its jaw started spreading and a high pitched whine emitted from their magic.  Sans backed away and hoped it would be bigger than the pathetic spark the blaster managed at the manor.

The whine grew in volume until a focused beam of light shot out from the blasters jaw and through the epicenter of the door. In fractions of a second the wood creaked and folded in on itself in an alien way. Then, as if all the kinetic energy had activated at once the door flew off its hinges and soared across the living room, crashing into the far wall and at last exploded into a smoldering pile of fire.

The sound was loud enough to shake the entire underground. Noise bounced off the empty cave walls and echoed deep, deep, into the caverns below.   Both he and the blaster take a look inside, shocked by the force of the implosion. “G-good job.” Sans clears his throat and pets the blaster again.

It was his own magic… but it was only strong by funneling the raw energy through the blaster. They made quite a team and Sans nods to the blaster in appreciation. The sentiment seems to reach the skull as it purs into his side.

The fire crackles inside, the split wooden door is blazing into a bit of a problem. It catches onto the curtain and slowly burns upwards. Sans can’t believe the destructive force behind the simple blast. He stands dumbfounded, staring at the flickering flames, bewitched by their beauty. But he shakes his head free of the thought of Grillby.

Instead he giddily jumps in place and hugs the blaster. “You’re so strong buddy!!!” Sans almost laughs. If he had this power earlier maybe he could have escaped from boss. Maybe it would be strong enough to weaken him… !!

…but the idea of hurting the sickly skeleton was appalling and Sans non existant gut churned at the idea. Picking on the weak was something horrible monsters did and Sans just didn’t have the heart to try and hurt him anymore.

Paps was dead. But Boss was his brother too. His maniacal ‘bigger’ brother who was sick at home and to delirious to see straight.  Sans shrugged off the idea with a deep and content sigh, okay with his dropping the ridiculous idea of rebellion. Even if it worked, he would hate himself if Papyrus ended up hurt. Besides… what would be the point in coming back here if not for Papyrus?

He still wanted to bring back his little big bro a gift.

And judging by the burning hellscape the kitchen was turning into- he better hurry to collect any precious child hood memories.

The pair rummages through the old house, trying to avoid eye contact with the fire that was splintering off into odd directions. Sans checked the fridge, awkwardly stepping over the flaming carpet blocking the way but he’s disappointed to find the fridge completely empty. Not even a crumb for a mouse.

His blaster nudges the kitchen carpet into a little ball away from them, as if it were a ball of yarn. Part of Sans is a bit worried, frequently looking at the fire extinguisher on the wall, but a cathartic part of him wants to see it all burn down. Burn to the same ash and smolder that Grillby should be reduced too. Wait? Why did the flamesman have a fire extinguisher in his house? Sans turns to grab it, wondering is he can carry the small kitchen appliance discretly with him, when from the corner of his eye he sees the metal can catch fire as well.

He grabs a pair of oven mitts and picks up the container. “I’ll just… put this overhere. With the rest of the fire…” Sans mumbles.  Okay… maybe this was getting out of hand. He better work quickly.

He leaves the kitchen, jumping over a few obstacles to quickly check the livingroom for anything important. The ottoman was just full of magazines and the the shelves had boring literature on human history. … Which was completely useless, Phycology, human behavioral studies, and texts on the brain.

Jeez, and here Sans thought he was the book worm. Grillby certainly had an ‘interesting’ collection. Though Sans’ interest waned, knowing how all that information was misused and overused. The books were worn to their cover and the dust on the shelves made Sans a bit nervous. He knew it couldn’t be from deceased monsters, that it was probably just dust bunnies from time passing, but since he was already wearing the rags of some poor murdered monster he tried not to think about it.

In the back, there are two rooms, one Sans is hauntingly familiar with. He enters Grillby’s room first, having a limited time to confront his past now that smoke was starting to make him tear up.

The room wasn’t as warm as he remembered. It simply looked like an office space with a bed plopped in the center. Sans shut the door to block the smoke and paced around, where was all the stuff that was here? The pictures on the walls? The warm colored lamps? The jazz record? The silk hung  rafters? The tripod facing the bed? The sweet smelling incense? The yummy candy liquor dish? The woolly shag carpet? The night table full of fun toys? The friendly looking teddy bear that Grillby told him to whisper all his secrets to so that –oh.

Sans stared bitterly at the bulging closet and pulls it open with both hands. Finding an assortment of cloth disguises, props, furniture, posters, videotapes, and boxes and boxes full of sheets. There was enough here to change his bedding every day for a month. Sans scorns him under his breath, spotting a box in the back that looked like the set up he had when Sans had been here last.  Its unsettling to see how many more fake designs and deceivingly plain ‘toys’ he’d been hoarding to trick other monsters.

Sans shut the door. Not wanting to salvage anything here. But after a guilty conscience reminds him Papyrus grew up in this very house, he opens the closet again. Bracing himself for the unsightly boxes of childrens underwear like it was a trophy collection. The sick bastard… he wonders how many more monsters are still in his hold.

His search is quick and full of disgust. Sans opens a box, takes a glance inside and tosses it out of his way once he determines the contents are nothing but fetishistic crap. Sometimes he came across a few gems. Money mostly, which Sans promptly adds to his inventory, but there was also children’s books here. One of them might have been the fluffy bunny book Pap apparently loved. 

Sans withheld a groan, remembering the conversation irritated him. How could Pap genuinely love the books Grillby read him and not remember the cat wears a hat story?! But if it helped a sick monster get better… it was worth a shot.

Sans cryptically looked at the odd books he came across. Most were light adventure stories. Sans even remembered a few of them being in the librby. It was a warm and safe place for Paps to stay while Sans worked and when he got back he would have the little booger read to him at a snails pace of 3 words a minute, all the while nodding his head and encouraging his little bro to read.

But the most puzzling from Grillbys collection consisted of a looseleaf dating manual- for retired old women to feel empowered and pretty. … and a toilet training book for toddlers. Sans shuddered, a cold prickly sensation run up his spine.

“damn grillby. What kind of freak-“

Just then the blaster nudged his side. Oh. Right.  – the fire. Sans got up from the floor, unable to find the book he wanted. Sans opened the door, bleary eyed as smoke wafted up his nasal cavity and filtered through his skull. His eyelights squinted through all the smoke- the fire had finished chewing up the curtains and carpet. Now it was moving onto the sofas and the upholstery stunk with chemicals and foam stuffing.

 

“Stars, ain’t that a beautiful living room?” Sans hummed in his throat, turning to the blaster for approval. He enters the next room and is pleasantly surprised when the bright red colors and a race car bed greet him from the doorway. There are crayon markings on the walls and bundles of clothes and toys on the floor -a room that looks awfully too immature for Grillby. It makes the blaster act strange too. It sniffs the air and coils on top of the bed. This was Papyrus’ room.

The small skeleton takes a step inside, intimately looking at the childhood given to Paps. Posters hung on the wall of literal rock bands and a weird looking microwave singer. There was also action figures on the shelves with parts missing and repaired with scraps of paper or glue bits. On the shelves were some books. Sans’ books.  He knelt down and picked on up, a textbook about the universe. When he was little he loved to flip through the pages and stare at the stars. He wrote his name on the inner cover and when Sans flipped to it he saw his own worn out crayon written name. Papyrus kept it. Papyrus kept all his books. Each one on the shelf was a muddy text from their old home in the dumps.

His soul fluttered at the sight of his old stuff, still intact. He pulled the garbage bag from his stocking and shook it open, then he grabbed one of  his favorites- a star chart- from the shelf and placed it inside. He’ll keep that for himself.

He stood up, renewing his search to find those dumb boardgames Pap lazily mumbled about. There was something that looked like a puzzle box with different colors on each side. Sans toggled with it, trying to get it open but the whole cube just slid left and right. It didn’t take long for him to figure out how to align the colors on top. He slid it into the bag too… but that probably wasn’t what Paps was talking about.

 

The blaster whines as the smell of smoke and ash start to come through the door. Any longer and Sans might actually have a problem.  He sweeps around the room with his eyes… but the bedroom is barren. There doesn’t appear to be any board games in the closet or under the bed- or any place a child might hide it. Sans even stomps on the floorboards to check if there was a loose storage tile. Nothing. 

 

Maybe it was a bad idea to set the house on fire. Sans tuts he teeth together. If he had more time, this search wouldn’t be as pressing. The only thing he can do now is evacuate before it becomes impossible. 

 

The bedroom window slides open easily enough, so sans tosses down his garbage bag full of goodies out the window. He too, makes a prompt escape and jumps from the window to dirt below. How long had he been down here? A couple hours maybe? Sans wonders if he still has time to stop by his camp. 

 

\---

 

Meanwhile, Boss had been livid when he woke to discover a missing Dove and maids. He thought for sure they would be back by now and had been upstairs or around the garden but no one was home. 

 

Then his foggy mind remembered how his pet asked about the mountain and though Papyrus felt queasy standing, letting his pet escape was a worse punch to the gut. He drug himself through the forest, dizzy and quickly out of breath. He lied his head on the tree bark and closed his eyes for a moment to rest, but only felt panicked. Every moment he wasted, his dove was getting further and further from him. No doubt faster on foot than his sick self. 

 

But Sans was busy taking a detour through echo flowers, never the wiser that Boss had already entered the underground and was searching for him. Quietly, of course. Papyrus had no idea if his dove would respond if he was called. It might make his beloved flee further into the caverns. But he knew someone had to be down here. There were signs of things disturbed and odd bare footprints that disturbed the layer of dust. He bent down to inspect the tracks, feeling his ribs shudder at the new angle. He wanted to lay on his side and clutch his chest until he was an inkling better, but Sans was getting away. He stood and tried to keep up. 

 

He spent a bit too much time in Hotland, looking in places he’d never bother with. He went to the hotel and kicked open every door (almost falling with it). Tried various shops and dark allies and also vomited in the street and felt a little better. His soul schelched as the digested magic was wrung from it and Papyrus wiped away the red drippings from his mouth with the back of his palm. Almost like blood, his magic stained his jaw and made him ever so weaker. Papyrus was aware of it, looking for some grub while he walked around. 

 

Something in the distance smelled delightful… like fresh barbecue.  That shouldn’t be??? He was sure no civilians were left in the underground!  So Papyrus fixed his direction and headed towards that roasting smell. He was sure to find his dove behind this. 

 

But what greeted him was his home in flames, beams creaking, and the door completely broken into.  Boss’ jaw fell. He ran inside, unsure of what to expect. “Dove?!” He called and coughed into the back of his wrist as smoke filled his skull. The kitchen was ablaze and consuming the living room. Papyrus fought back tears and peered through the heavy black smoke. “Dove?!” He felt light headed. (oh stars. Not here!) he braced himself against a burning column and winced as it burned his phalanges. He couldn’t even see in front of himself. The whole house was a smolder of red flame and black smoke. He walked with his arms out in front of him and delved deeper, yelling the whole time. 

 

“Sans!!!” 


	13. Childhood Homes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mwah♥~ (‘∀`)ゞ Thank you for voting on Tumblr!!!  
> Throughout July, this fic will be updated~ 
> 
> Thank you lovelies for being patient and supportive!  
> I love you guys >//w//< !!!

“Sans!”

 That voice reminded him of the echo flowers, they were Papyrus’s voice. Clear and audible…not too far away. Sans looked around for one, wondering if he had brushed by a flower and triggered it on his exit. The main road was overgrown with the flowers but there was a tinge of panic in the echo. Something… off.

 Sans walked backwards on the path, trying to see which flower he might have brushed passed but all that echo back are some raindrops.  His blaster, holding their hoard of treasure in his mouth, whined as the question hung between them. Where had that sound come from?

 It didn’t repeat again, even as Sans tried to poke more flowers. Where was the rest of that message? He wanted to hear more of what Pap said. He sounded… older. Much older. And that scream was… desperate.

Sans shared a look with his blaster. As if to ask the pup what he thought of the sound. It wasn’t a flower… was it real? No way… Boss wouldn’t have followed him out here would he?  -erp! How long had he been gone?

 The blaster blinks with absent minded confusion too. Time was an illusion down here in the underground. No clocks- no windows- sunset could have come and gone and he’d never know.

 Against his better judgement, he turned back towards the burning cabin. Only a fourty foot pace away from himself… it seemed dumb to get close to the fire. Sans stood at the front entrance- where the door was gone and flames erupted from its innards. Couldn’t get much closer.

“Boss?” He nervously called. He took a step back from the burning welcome mat and called again, slightly louder.  “…is anyone here?”

 Theres no answer.

He looked back at his blaster- shrugging his shoulders. He heard the creaking of wooden beams buckling under new weight it couldn’t support. It felt really good to be looking at his handy work… burning that shitty part of his life.  H’ed like to sit and watch the whole roast… but he had to get back soon before-

Something from inside the house coughs. Sans keens forward. “Hello?”  he pauses. No one should be down here…  

He has his blaster put down the loot and hover close to him. He hadn’t fought in such a long time… but he didn’t forget how to hold himself in a battle. If there were any monsters down here. He would be ready for them. “Is anyone in there?”  Sans spoke – voice drowned by part of house collapsed in on itself. The wooden beams just couldn’t hold.

Sans whistled. Such a pretty sight. Maybe that sound was escaping gas. He turns back around- spotting the set of footprints in the dirt that weren’t his own. Boots.

He withheld a groan in his throat looking back into the open archway- blazing with fire.

“B…boss?” He called once more. He bit his teeth together. This was a dumb idea. This was a really dumb idea and there was no guarantee anyone was in the house. But those footprints couldn’t be old…

Sans winched his eyes closed and ducked into the burning house squinting past the smoke as tears welled up in his eyes immediately. “Boss?!” He called futiley. The flames sizzled against his bone. So unlike the magic of Grillbys hand- fire was raw and undiscerning of friend and foe. Sans felt sweat trickle against the inside of his collar. “Boss!!?!”

The kitchen wall had sunken and opened up to make a new window to show the other side of the underground. The initial burn point had already eaten through so much of the foundation. – And then there was some idiot on the floor. – passed out.

“…boss.” Sans breathed. He grit his teeth. The bastard was sick! Why did he follow him here!? How long had he been following him?? That didn’t matter.  He bent to pick up the heavy asshole- straining against his weight and his own lack of muscle.

The blaster, was already helping, gathering the skeletons head and shoulders in his mouth like he was half voring the monster in his hollow jaw. It was enough to drag Pap out the house.

Quickly, the two got free from the fire and the blaster spat him up on the cold dirt like sand on the front yard. It wasn’t quite far enough from the fire that the smoke wasn’t constantly in his nose- but it was safe.

“… boss?- hey.” Sans slapped his cheek, trying to stir a reaction out of him. Its not like skeletons needed air. He didn’t have lungs filled with smoke. Boss was just sick- or so Sans hoped. He slapped him again for good measure. – and the again for fun.

When would he get another chance to slap around this asshole lol?  But theres no response.

Sans sighs, falling back to his butt, while his blaster collects their loot bag and brings it to his feet. Would boss be upset his childhood home is burned?  Hell… he should teleport out of here now before boss woke. He could play it off as some fever dream if he did it right. But – that wouldn’t explain the toys he was bringing him.

Damit! If only he though this out, he never plans. He was always just doing one thing to the next… that’s how he ended up homeless on the streets after he escaped Grillby’s clutches. That’s how he got captured by this megalomaniac brother of his. …

…

…

Sans stares at the crazy piece of shit. He’s still wearing his gross semen covered pants, shirtless because Sans stole it, and drenched in sweat. Maybe it was from the fever- or the fire. He wasn’t a doctor.

Sans tut his teeth together.

Stuck in the dirt- baby sitting a collapsed pap. He didn’t want to be doing this right now- caring for his not brother…kidnapper… brother. It felt so confusing to hate and sorta like- like and hurt with that familial love for his sibling.  

What was Papyrus to him?

What was Sans to him?

He pinched the others cheek again  to make sure he was asleep. The house behind them cackled with flame. Even though it didn’t pose a threat… its heat swelled the underground with a suffocating smoke. Lack of ventilation down here. Again… his dumb planning.

He wasn’t going to get a chance to see his old camp with boss in his party. Sans sucked in a breath of dread. But now that he knew the underground wasn’t collapsed. He could create a new shortcut here. He could come back whenever he wanted. It wasn’t a complete loss.

Quickly Sans drew his magic outward to save this location. Then he bent down and touched boss’s fingertips and held his blaster and their supplies. He closed his eyes, thinking of the lodge in the middle of the woods. He made a shortcut their earlier… but he hadn’t actually tried to use his short cuts yet.  

He felt the cooler difference of air surround him as he teleported. But it was pitch black. Wherever he went… this place was obviously not next to fire, good.  Sans opened his eyes, still seeing the pitch black –  he stumbled around in the dark – tripping over odd metallic things that clanked together and… soppy wet things. Also over Paps body- he kind of forgot where he left him.

He walked the entire perimeter of the walls, tracing with his fingers for something resembling a light switch and at last- he found it. The room flooded with overhead lights and Sans gasped. –

This wasn’t the cabin.

It wasn’t even the underground.

This place… he didn’t know he had a short cut here.

He didn’t even remember this room.

But his body shook with the memory. The memory deeply ingrained in his bones.

Fear filled him at once, and Sans buckled and fell to his knees.

He’d seen this room on the camera- He’d seen this room in his nightmares…

… he was back… back … .

Back where he’d spent the last decade of his life… drugged with hardly any memory of who he was. The room, a metal storage container,  he’d grown up here. The same room he’d been raped in so many times…

His eyes flash to the chains on the ceiling- then to the lumpy mattress on the floor- then to the metal door with one slot for a food tray and a sliding window for passerbyers to see if he was even alive.

He catches sight of the dent in the wall, an imprint of a fist or a skull bashed into its side, and the sharp metal post of the bed, lined with handcuffs of every color. The wet rubber of used condoms on the floor- the wet of a hose being sprayed on the cold tile below to ‘clean’ the room.  The syringes on the floor. To keep him sedated. To keep him compliant. Broken syringes in a pile without care.

Then – he looked at the tattered blanket he clung too for any warmth. He waddled to it. Picked it up and smelled it deeply, smelling the salts of tears of every night and the musk of sex and an awkward body growing up without awareness of the world outside. The smell so nostalgic, he cried into the bedsheet. Its his. Its his scent. His childhood. His entire life. There’s a single camera in the corner of the room- off. Its red unsettling blinking light finally dead.

Sans sunk to his ass again, crying into the blankie.

…. He was back.

He was back home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mwah♥~ (‘∀`)ゞ Thank you for voting on Tumblr!!!  
> Throughout July, this fic will be updated~ 
> 
> Thank you lovelies for being patient and supportive!  
> I love you guys >//w//< !!!
> 
> ( psst- I post updates on tumblr first...)


	14. Returning home- attempt #2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mwah♥~ (‘∀`)ゞ Thank you for voting on Tumblr!!!  
>  Throughout July, this fic will be updated~
> 
> Thank you lovelies for being patient and supportive!  
>  I love you guys >//w//< !!!

 

Papyrus woke up soaked in his own drool and face down on the floor. The long sticky strand of saliva latches onto his skull even as he tries to push himself up. The sleepy skele rubs his eyes, then rubs the drool off of himself with the back of his boney palm.  Bleary eyes look around, shifting back and forth with a confused and dazed lack of recognition. Every where the looked-White walls… white floors… white lights… how the fuck did he get here?

A slick slime substance permeates from his skull, almost like droplets of sweat- except its thick like mucus and tinged in the dark color of his magic. Everything felt hot… and sticky. He wanted to pull off his shirt- but once again he'd been baffled by the fact he wasn't wearing one. Slowly, like a sneeze at the tip of his nose, he leaned back and forth clearing the cloudiness from his mind. That’s right- he starts to remember- his dove took his shirt after sex. Then he got sick, he went to sleep... and when he woke his dove had-… had left!

Papyrus snaps awake, rocking to his feet, despite how his body sways him to fall back down. His dove had run away! His pet was gone and Papyrus was chasing it! And he followed tracks to Mount Ebott- found shoes on the side of the trail- found fire burning in the empty caverns and- !!

The heat- the sweat- the fever like fire… all around him. The flames-!

Papyrus spun on his heel, about to call for his beloved pet- remembering the fire- remembering calling for Sans- but this place isn’t his childhood home. And Sans… Sans is safe. He quite easily spots the sleeping skeleton on the floor, half poking out from under the frame of a metal spring bed. His dove is curled up beneath there, holding some tattered rag and wearing some dusty kakis.

Boss sweeps back the sweat on his skull. He looks around at the bright overhead lights, taking in his new surroundings. The last thing he remembered was being surrounded by fire… so … where was this place?

He tried for the door. It’s a massive metal frame that might be used to house violent prisoners. The food slot and jailed sliding window were a good indication of that too. Pap tried the door- locked. Of course. As if it would just be open.

He checked the food slot next- his magic was low. His soul squeezed a bit in response when he saw the cobweb in the slot. He growled in his throat. His kidnappers were less than well mannered. Or maybe they knew Papyrus could bust down this door, given a bit of time and food.

Whatever the case, standing was tiring. Boss slid to the floor and leaned into the cold metal. No matter how gross it was for him to sit with his face to the floor, it soothed his heated bones. Damn… he hadn’t been this sick since he was a baby bones. Why now?

He spots a bag of books and puzzles on the floor, stuff he owned when he was little. Stuff he’d left behind when they were packing for the surface. Why was that here? Had his Dove… saved that from the fire? How did the fire start to begin with? Obviously someone had been chasing his pet…

He spots his precious Dove still on the floor. He crawls over to his side and presses his head against the cool floor tiles, wet or not- filthy or not- Papyrus had a really hard time keeping himself upright. He’d vomited everything he could earlier, and now this headache was going to kill him.

He shifted his arm to grab at his pet. “Dove.” He said lightly, he couldn’t even be angry that his property ran away. The energy was drained from him. “Dove, wake up. What happened?”

Sans doesn’t wake at first, he clings to his blankie and further scrunches into a ball to get away from the abrasive touch but after a few more times of Boss calling him, he starts to stir- eyes opening.

The first thing he sees is Boss. And his gaze softens to see his little… big brothers face. But that nostalgia melts when he realizes its Boss.  It’s the man that kidnapped him. It’s the monster that tortured him… and now he was back here. Back in this asylum haunting his nightmares.

Sans snaps up- hitting his head on the under frame of the bed. The hollow metal sound that follows is like church bells, the echo lingers even as Sans is already driven to the corner, crying again.

“I don’t wanna be here! Take me home! Take me home please!!!” Sans babbles, he scrambles into Papyrus’s arms- choosing the lesser of two evils.

Boss scrunches his face in confusion, having the tiny skeleton cling to him was always nice… but what was going on? He looks around the place again, feeling vertigo from lifting his head. –Metal bed, metal door, white walls, white floors, this place looks like a solitary room in a prison. He pets his Dove’s skull and tries to calm down the whimpering monster.

Wow… his Dove has never been so clingy.

He relished in touching the shaking skeleton again, unable to fully enjoy the lilthe body pressed against his own. Not when the need to sleep was so strong. His jaw felt like he was chewing mud. He coughed before trying to speak again. “Calm down… we’ll go home. Yeah… kay.”

It was new to try to console the skeleton. He pet the tiny skull and tried to sit up, hard to do with his dove crying into him, but Papyrus sits up and wobbles a bit, about to fall over. This place sorta looked familiar but he couldn't figure out why. All he knew was his trembling dove… was mumbling about wanting to go home again and again…

“Dove… calm down… calm down.”  Ah, this panic attack. He really didn’t know how to deal with it. He did his best, but he was having a hard time calming down too… This place was … weird. He needed to get home. And his maids should have been back with medicine by now. How long was he asleep?

“-hoome. Take me hooome. Tke mee hooome.”

“Yeah- yeah home. I’m working on it.” Boss cringed as his magic gurgled. The sound loud through his ribs-and his dove was pressed right against him.

Not that Sans heard. His eyes were knit tightly closed, his magic humming but not forming any weapons. It was likely a fear thing … to be prepared.

Boss got to his feet, holding his precious dove close to him. Asking questions was pointless when his pet was like this. And despite how he felt, Papyrus didn’t want to play prisoner to some monsters whim.

He what little of his magic he had left and summoned his weapon of choice – a scythe, though not as towering and impressive before, the weapon still hummed with intent to kill. Boss swung it lazily at the door, cutting it like butter. The metal sparked and sliced clean, along with half the wall. It pivoted on its hinge and fell outward, collapsing with a solid thud. Just like Papyrus, who fell to a knee. His weapon disappeared as quickly as he cast it.

“Dove.. Dove …” No reaction, just the hum of his dove’s magic winding up. “Dove, look. Doors open. Go get help. I’m gonna …” He felt like collapsing on the spot. It was unlike him to be so lazy…especially with the threat of danger around the corner … but this fever was making him sluggish. If he just rested longer maybe… “I’m gonna take a nap…”

Sans finally seemed to stir out of his chanting- seeing the metal doors fall to the floor. He stared out at the blank hallway - at the numbered doors across the hall.

43… 45… 47…  He hung tightly to Papyrus’s neck. Terrified at seeing something more than just the white walls. He wasn’t trapped here, Boss was with him. Boss was here to make it better.

With that comfortable thought, he was able to rationalize again. He came to terms with where he was …how he got here. … and recognized that this was his own fault.

… he never was trapped here. He…. He did got here by accident. His magic had burned this place into his memory, the shortcut here was an accident. He could leave.

Sans grabbed onto Papyrus’s rib, hugging the monster tightly. “Sorry… I was..” Sans whispered. “ I was just scared… a bit. I’m better now. I’m sorry.”

“Good.” Boss nods his head. “Are you done with your panic attack?”

“y..yeah.” Sans mumbled, though this didn’t feel like a panic attack, he knew what boss meant. And he knew how to fix this.

“Okay… go … go find Muffet. She’ll… do something. I need to sleep…” Papyrus said again, this time actually rolling to his side. He’s unaware that Sans is grabbing his plastic bag of loot and teleporting them again until they’ve already moved. His lack of surprise is due to his tiredness.

Pap blinks, to the new location. The place is almost a dark blue, with small yellow light streaming in from the arched windows. The floor is damp, soaked cold, despite being dry… his head rests on hardwood not tiles.

Boss recognizes this place as home, his home.

Specifically, they were in his study where he kept his books… before they were destroyed with the sprinklers going off. The maids had done a good job of taking care of the place … mostly. There were rows of tables and fans, drying out the pages. … The books were beyond repairable… but the effort was there.

His doves cage was here too- turned over on its side to let the water run out. His favorite armchair was pushed next to the fireplace- even though the flames are dieing…

How … did he get here? Did he black out before rescue arrived? Boss looks around quickly, confusion evident on his face before he notices his dove is holding his hand-

Those fingers… warm with magic. The pink little glow still marked his fingertips…

“Di…did you” No… it couldn’t be… “did you… teleport us?” Papyrus asks, his voice cracking with every word. Monsters couldn’t teleport right? That was a unique magic. Like Muffets pet summon… and … Grillby’s-

His head droops.

His eyelights fading in and out as he tried to staved off sleep. But he can’t. He watches as his dove falls over, knocked out and asleep in seconds. Boss can hardly stay up himself. He too, gives in…  the two exhausted their magic and sleep on the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mwah♥~ (‘∀`)ゞ Thank you for voting on Tumblr!!!  
>  Throughout July, this fic will be updated~
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> Thank you lovelies for being patient and supportive!  
>  I love you guys >//w//< !!!
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> ( psst- I post updates on tumblr first...)


	15. A fresh perspective

Sans should have been accustomed to waking up on the floor, drool seeping between his open jaw, but the truth was a few nights on a real bed had made his body spoiled to the warmth of cotton. Even though he’d spent months on the floor before, his spine ached when he woke up today- unused to the harsh coldwood pressing into his bones.   
   
Sans wiped drool into his ulna, looking around in confusion again. It wasn’t the first time he’d been dragged somewhere else while he was knocked out, there was little shock to be found when he recognized the room was Boss’s bedroom.    
   
Though he’d been here before the room looked completely out of place with the version in his memory. Rather than the garnet colored tapestries and silky wine curtains, the walls were blank and boring. The bed, which had once been the centerpiece of the room, _( and made Sans feel trepidation throughout his bones at the mere sight of it )_ was nowhere to be seen. It's frame remained, without a mattress.   
   
The furniture was dismantled in the same way. Dresser drawers and tables lied bare of their innards and were turned on their side. The windows too, bore wide open letting in the heat of summer air and the buzz of distant cicadas.   
   
Some mopping equipment lied propped up beside the closed _( and locked )_ bedroom door. Sans paused, his worst nightmares coming to fruition as he remembered how Boss would lock that door and seal him inside… but Sans had nothing to fear. He wasn’t afraid of that intimacy anymore.  There was no bed here… and … Boss was… *  
   
Where was Boss? Where was _Papyrus_?   
   
The skeleton wasn’t the imposing monster he once thought of him as… and now, being separated from him Sans felt terrified in a new way. He saved Papyrus from that fire, _right_? They were at Papyrus’s childhood home… and then teleported to Sans’ childhood home… and now they were just… _Home-_ home. _Right_?   
   
This was definitely Boss’s manor, with a few interior changes. Sans put together that the maids left to work here must have been redecorating and tossing out the unusable furniture. His last escape plan had left the mansion flooded and rendered unusable on some floors.   
   
Sans pushed himself up and stumbled around, trying the door. He could unlock it from this side… but there was no need too. The latch on the door only hooked from one side, there was no need for a key. Which meant whoever locked the door was still around and Sans eagerly wanted to check up on him.   
   
He went to the other door- the bathroom. _He’d spent what seemed like a lifetime in front of that bathroom mirror- toiling away with useless key after useless key to look for escape._ Sans bit his jaw closed, reaching for the door knob. That was in the past. He and Papyrus weren’t enemies anymore… escape wasn’t… _desirable_.   
   
Sans just wanted to be with his Boss again. If… boss was there?   
   
He hesitated on the door knob.   
   
If Boss was behind the door he was 100% guaranteed to be naked. Either taking a shit or a shower… so the blunt and forward approach probably wouldn’t mull over well. Sans certainly didn’t appreciate it when Boss constantly invaded his personal space.  
   
What did normal monsters do for privacy? Heh… Sans almost had a brain strain trying to remember word for ‘knock’. He timidly knocked on the bathroom door, just to make sure Pap was in there.    
   
“...Boss?”  
   
It felt weird with the plank of wood between himself and the other, but a voice cut through clearly. “Morning, Dove. Go fetch a maid from the hall. They’ll make you something to eat.”   
   
“A.. _actually_. Can… _I_ come _in_?”  
   
Resting his head upon the door, Sans waited for an answer. Just a few seconds passing felt like an eternity in waiting. He heard the shift of water from the other side, as a heavy object made waves from within the bath. Then, sloppy wet boney footsteps precariously step closer, careful of sliping. Sans backed away from the door after hearing the small lock click open, soon after the door swung open too. The bachelor was leaning heavily on the door frame, a small cotton towel around his waist.   
   
“Hey.”  
   
He gulped. “.. _hey_.”  
   
Awkward with this newfound casual and almost pleasant atmosphere. Sans scratches away at his arm, flinching sharply as he comes across the small healing scab on his ulna. This wasn’t the first time he’d seen Boss naked… or shirtless… but it never became any less embarrassing.  
   
“Do you need to-”  
   
“No.- _no_! I just..” Sans looked down at the towel. “I’m _really_ glad you’re… here.”  
   
“...” Boss opened the door wider, smiling a bit. HIs expression looked really soft, despite the jagged scars he looked tired in a sleepy kind of way that made him look mild. Steam belched out from the open doorway and Boss’s distinct musk stuck to his bone along with the soft scent of soap. “I’m glad you’re here too, dove. I was afraid you’d tried to runaway again.”  
   
“Heh...yeah.” Sans covered his ulna with the carpals of his hand, covering the scar as if to move on from that shameful event. “I…   _tried_ to get some of your stuff from… your… and..uh. _Grillby’s_ home.”   
   
“I saw. Its adorable you tried to get that for me, darling. ...You shouldn’t have left though. Muffet and Nezu were worried when they returned home to find us both missing. They gave me quite a lecture over the phone.”  
   
“Heh…I’m sorry.”  
   
“You didn’t… do anything wrong. Papyrus shivered in place, a chill running up his spine. He was making a nice little puddle below his feet as water rolled off his bones. “Are… you okay now? … Earlier, you really had a … bad panic attack. In _that_ room.”   
   
“...I’m.” Sans  sucked in a breath, nodding all the same. “..okay.” Not quite sure how to bridge this tension. He didn’t feel okay. That room was haunting… but having his little brother back was a small bandage on the empty feeling in his chest.  “...Can we bathe together?” _Like old times? When he could hold his baby bro in his arms and hear nothing but the waterfall cascading around them, a natural sound barrier as he sung and his brother splashed… and no monsters would attack them. A small repreve, where he could relax and breath with the only part of him that felt complete._  
   
But Sans knew it wouldn’t be just like before… For one, he couldn’t even hold Papyrus in his arms anymore. And two, being naked with the bachelor wasn’t as innocent as when they were kids. He knew for sure Boss would try to feel him up if they bathed together. But… that didn’t seem so appaling.  Three, Sans really, really, wanted a bath. Clothed in some dead monsters garbs, covered in mud and ash and dust, sweat and tears, - he felt disgusting.   
   
“My magic is back. Don’t think you can stab me, pet.”   
   
“... heh.. Yeah.” Sans cringed. “Sorry?”    
   
Would that be enough to put aside months of conflict? A lot of things had changed in such a short time, and even though Boss’s identity hadn’t changed, Sans did. Sans was tired of running. Sans was tired of crying.   
   
This was his little brother… his kidnapper… his master…   
   
his Boss…  …   
   
“I suppose you _do_ need a bath, pet. You have my permission to leave. There is another bathroom down the hall and-”  
   
“-Can I… with you?” He interjects, fingers tapping together, nervous. He looks down at the floor, afraid of a rejection. In his peripheral he still sees the square of towel the skeleton wears. “I can...wash your back?”  
   
Papyrus raises a boney brow, stepping back to let Sans through.   
   
Inside the bathroom the smell of soap was even stronger. The bathroom mirror was fogged up but Sans could still make out his blurry disheveled self. There were some medicine bottles on the counter, cough suppressant and headache pills and stuff Sans didn’t know about, but assumed they helped the fever Papyrus had. As the door closed the heat of the bathwater swelled around them. The steam was helpful since Boss was sick, but for Sans -he could feel the vapor set heavily in each breath and condensation building up on his rib cage with small beads of moisture. The air was heavy with the heat and humidity.   
   
“I trust you won't attack me this time, dove?”  
   
“N-no!” Sans blurted. Eyes dropping to the naked skeleton in the room. Sans tensed up, his soul beating quickly in his chest. He tried to avoid looking, even though magic hadn’t been conjured between his pelvis.  
   
Papyrus moved around from behind him, descending into the bathwater again. When Sans peaked a glance he saw the skeleton had thrown his head back and had an arm over the rim of the tub. It looked really relaxing…  
   
Sans began to pull off his clothes too. He kept wincing, reminding himself Boss had seen him naked before. But now, Sans was in **_control_**. He could take his clothes off because it was his **_choice_** and he didn’t have to make a show of it. He didn’t have to worry about… having sex. This was purely just… to get clean. To feel bone on _bone_ and… be _close_ to _Boss_.   
   
And also get clean… _that too!_  
Sans huffed out a breath, dropping articles of clothing to the floor one by one. The pants, the stockings underneath, and the oversized shirt fall to the ground in a crumpled halo around him.  Nimbly, he toes his way into the tub. The water is already the right temperature, immediately surging up his bones and sending a shiver of warmth up his spine. He sat opposite Boss in the tub, twitchy hands kept palming himself to try and cover up his pelvic inlet.   
   
Through the clear water it was easy to see the glow in their bones. The pinks and reds of both of their magic had a unique hum or arousal just being bare and close like this. It certainly left nothing to the imagination. Every crack and scar, imprint, bruise, bite, and wound was visible. Sans gawked openly a the scars on Paps body, healed and misaligned bones from past battles. It made him feel a bit better about his own mangled body, the scars they both had were telling of two very different lives…   
   
It was perhaps one of the few times Sans had actually appreciated his own body. Rather than ruthlessly scrubbing down to the marrow, _desperate to feel clean and free from the phantom touches lingering on his bone_ \- Sans now had a fresh look at the scars that marred his bone.   
   
The familiar name carved in his clavicle seemed more like something to be prideful of, rather than the ownership it was specifically made for. Papyrus’s name being so close to his soul held new meaning. It was _guarding_ his rib cage,  it made him feel _wanted… cared for…_ and silently it _comforted_ the skeleton to know his brother was with him forever now… Even if this relationship was more than a little warped.   
   
There was also the engraved marks of the L and R on his upper and lower limbs. And countless more tiny scratches that had healed and created an elaborate web of cracks along his porcelain bone. He felt Boss staring too, just as curious to explore every curve. But he refrained himself from those unwanted touches just this once. Maybe it was a mutual respect or mutual tiredness, but those juvenile thoughts of jumping the others bones was replaced with a tranquil quiet. Small splashes of water and the rising steam from the bath.  
   
It was somewhat nice.   
   
… though the water around Sans was getting dirtier, the charismatic bachelor didn’t mind at all. Boss only smirked at his pet from the other side, dancing his phalanges across the surface of the water to make small finger flick splashes. Amusing himself.   
   
Sans sunk into the water up to his chin. - with room enough to kick out his legs without hitting anything.  He’d almost forgotten the latter was rich. The cabin was a lot more humble in size compared to this. Here, was like a smaller and shallower swimming pool. The two skeletons could stretch out in their corners of the bath without ever hitting each other.  
   
Quite dirty, Papyrus offered him the bar of soap and a hand towel, lathering up them both for his pet to use. It invited Sans to scoot closer without a single word.   
   
In small circles he rubbed the cloth over his face, letting the bubbles polish his bone again. Dunking in the water made him feel refreshed and energetic even though he was still magically exhausted.   
   
In just a few minutes Sans was already under his arm, both relaxing in the heat of the bath with their eyes closed. Soaking was fine for them both. Listening to the small inhales and exhales of each other was calming. It felt like a good time to confess something on his mind.   
   
“Hey Boss.”   
   
“..mn, what Dove?”  
   
“Those lullabies I sing… they remind you of your brother, right?”  
   
“Yes. A lovely song. But my Dove’s song is even more lovely.” He pulled his pet closer, dipping their skulls together with a light tap.   
   
Sans shudders in the side hug, feeling Paps skull against his own. “Do you miss your brother?”  
   
There isn’t much sentiment in his voice, though it really seems as if Papyrus was being honest about the answer. He gave it time to stew about in his head before he answered with a slow~“... Sometimes.”  
   
“Sometimes?”  
   
“When you gain a lot of Lv so quickly… killing and death are pretty much the same.” Boss sighs leaning heavily on Sans’ side. “I’ve killed so many friends… so many allies… just for a few extra points of damage… It feels a bit useless to be thinking about the dead, dove.”   
   
A shallow breath passed his teeth, he so desperately wanted to talk to Boss about his identity… even though the numb skull hadn’t figured it out yet, but hearing that was a low blow to his esteem. Even though Papyrus still thought of his brother, asking in song all the time… it seemed his brother had moved on.   
   
That…  … … … was _healthy_.   
   
Sans bit his jaw.    
   
Actually, it was _really_ healthy to move on.   
   
He felt bitter and angry Papyrus could simply forget him… but part of him also felt relieved. It would be such a burden for Paps to carry the fake death of his brother on his shoulders. And… compared to Sans _(whose memory was scattered over the decade)_...Paps had already spent years dealing with those dark thoughts.   
   
“Thats… _uh… good_.”   
   
“What about your family?”  
   
“Mine-um?”  
   
“Mother, father? Siblings? Cousins? … Grillby picked you up from somewhere right, doll? Unless… did they abandon you?”  
   
That's not exactly how it happened and Sans knew it. Quit the opposite, Sans was the one who abandoned his own brother. He should never have stopped looking. He shouldn’t have accepted the ashes and thought for a second that his little brother was dead. If he just held onto that hope…  
   
“...Worry not dove, it’s not so uncommon. My father abandoned me too- so did my mother. They’re all dead now, anyhow. Family is worthless. ”  
   
Sans rubbed the bar of soap between his hands, causing bubbles to foam up and spread across the bath. “Well no… I don't think family is… _worthless_. I really cherish those memories.”  Sans whispered. He _wanted_ to talk about himself. He _wanted_ to open up more to Boss… but again he is left with the sense that maybe those precious memories are best for him to hoard by himself.   
   
Even though Papyrus was dense… he’d surely be able to piece together some things if their stories matched. Which would be bad…since mourning the dead was apparently _‘useless’_  and family was _‘worthless’_ and Paps had moved on from such a dark history.   
   
It wouldn’t be right for Sans to selfishly reopen those old emotional wounds. He really didn’t want to hurt Paps like that again.   
   
“Family…” Sans thought out loud, obviously stalling for time. It was difficult to try and search for someone in recent memory he could talk about, but he didn’t lose this familiarity with Boss. He enjoyed this conversation. He missed talking like it was a _normal_ thing to do. The skeleton was actively listening too- a far difference from when Boss would only ask of song. Plus- with Boss opening up to him, Sans had to do his very best to reciprocate the stories shared.   
   
But, what could he share with the other? He definitely couldn’t talk about Dad. A scientist of his presiege would be easy to identify… and mom had died right after Pap was born. Boss wanted to know about his family, the best thing to do was to make something up… lie.  But it felt wrong to do that too. Especially since Boss had finally confieded something personal about his life. Then a thought strikes through him… one of the people in his past whom he _loved_ and _trusted_ like _family_.   
   
“Grillby…” Sans clenches his fists, submerging them in the water and watching as the bubbles fizzle out. “I thought of Grillby as a boyfriend at one point…” He put a lot of faith in that relationship. Grillby was older, experienced, mature in so many ways that Sans tried his best not to disappoint. Grillby- _for all the sick damage he’d done over the years_ \- was the one person who gave him a reason to live. Even if that was some manipulative stunt… For a brief period in his life… Sans was happy to sit in the others lap and makeout and forget the worries he’d had- letting Grillby paint his body in new colors- giving him purpose and love…. “I thought I could trust Grillby.” Sans admits, “... but he was just using me. And… yeah… you … already know how the rest of that … happened.”     
   
“Oh.” Papyrus makes a small chirp in surprise. It made Sans wonder why the skeleton was so fond of the bastard at all. Clearly he knew all about the scandalous activity Grillby did, yet it hardly phased him. “Well... he won’t hurt you again, pet.” He laid a small skeltal kiss against the side of Red’s cranium. “Promise.”   
   
That small kiss melted Sans in a moment, just being held under one of Paps arms felt… _safe_ for the first time in a long time.   
   
They sat there for what must have been more than an hour. The water had gotten colder and though their bones didn’t prune up like skin, there were definitely more malleable surfaces on his fingertips. Papyrus was asleep, evident only by the rise and fall in his chest and the sudden sickly mucus snores that caught in his throat.   
   
Sans slipped from the half embrace and, fighting his own drowsiness, continued to bathe himself until the water turned a grey color.  He pulled the plug and shivered in cold while trying to fiddle with the hot and cold handles. -Unfortunately waking boss to a sudden cold shower, but the other was quick to fix the settings to warm and mumble about being hungry.   
   
Latched onto Sans again, Boss deeply smelled the soap on him. A small compliment passes his lips but Sans can’t comprehend much more of the drowsy mumbles. Still, he blushes at the charming tones and the deep incomprehensible voice nuzzling up against his back.   
   
“...B..Boss? Let's get out, kay?”  
   
“Mmn.” The vibration against his bone sent a tremor down his spine. The cascading water rinsed them clean, steaming up the bath once again. The steam would be good for the sick monster, but for Sans it offered a deep breath of fresh air. He felt…   
   
... _Reborn_. New. Like a piece of him had _finally_ had the closure he’d longed for. Like a piece of him finally was filled with a sense of _belonging_. There was _something…_ very _intimate_ about being naked… yet not being… _vulnerable_. He smiled sheepishly into the arm embracing him.   
   
They washed off and rinsed off and faced the emptiness of the bedroom together. Summers breath, warm as it is, began seeping between the bare space in their towels as they stood dumbfounded outside the bathroom.    
   
“...”   
   
Papyrus stared out at the turned over dresser. “I forgot you’d ruined my home, dove.” The drawers were dry now, but whatever clothing it contained was surely being washed. - No maid had yet return it to where it belonged and now the two were standing bare in the room with only a towel around their hip.  Boss tut his teeth together.   
   
“...S..sorry I flooded your house.”   
   
“Its fine, dove.” A sigh passed his nasal cavity. “I’ll make a phone call and send someone up with clothes.”   
   
“... also ...sorry I burned down your other.. _other_.. house.”  
   
“You.. ? What.” The bone brow went up and peered down at Sans in the same obtrusive looming way that drew fear into the smaller skeletons bones. But things changed now. Sans tore his gaze away to look at the ground, apologizing.   
   
“...In the underground, I accidentally… _purposely…_ let Grillby’s house catch fire. It was your house too though… I … wasn’t thinking straight.” Whatever punishment he got was truly his own fault. Whatever little therapy he got from burning the bastards house was quickly replaced by the guilt trip through his chest- the simple truth that he had burned and ruined the only precious childhood home his brother had. It was an ideal childhood Sans could never provide. Simple necessities, like a roof over his brothers head and a bed and real things that weren't scavenged from the dump… all of it gone in flames. “I’m...sorry. I’m sorry I couldn’t find your board game… and a lot of your toys probably melted by now.”  
   
“Now, now. Don’t worry, Dove. Nothing there was of importance anyway. When we moved to the surface I already took everything I wanted with me.” Boss knelt down and placed his heavy hands on both of Sans’ shoulders. Suddenly any guilt remaining inside him was melted by Papyrus’s next words.  “I’m deeply moved by what you brought me.” Sans let a small smile brighten his face. Boss wasn’t mad? Boss forgave him? “It made me happy to think my beloved dove was retrieving my things.”   
   
Service came to their room in mere minutes after a call was made. No one had seen the master enter the home so his arrival had caused a bit of a stir. Outside the door stood 4 or 5 maids that had overheard the news and were eager to cater to their saviors whims. One of the women working for Boss had brought upstairs a basket of laundry and they exchanged it through the slanted doorway like a hostage situation. The door locked again with her dismissal and Boss stripped away his thin towel to don some new clothes. He just had to find it first...  
   
He knelt on the floor, rifling through the laundry basket for a pair of underwear. He’d already pillaged a shirt and tie to his liking but rather than simply getting dressed he was trying to match a style. The skeleton had quite the eccentric taste for clothing, which brought Sans to his next dreadful mindset. ~ Would he have to wear a dress again?  
   
As if his inner thoughts had been overheard, a bright red and black flowered pattern emerges from the the pile, fluttering just arm width distance away for Sans to take. Begrudgingly, he holds the silk tressed garb against himself. It was far warmer than nothing…  
   
“I hate dresses.” He mumbles loud enough for his venting to be heard. Sighs further punctuate his distaste. He watched, enviously as Boss shimmied into a pair of tight leather pants and buttoned up his prissy white shirt all the way to his collar. “Why can’t I wear what your wearing?”  
   
Sans bunched up the poofy bottom skirt and stuck his arms through the bottom circus tent half. The massive fabric remained heavy as he pulled it over his head and straightened it out over his waist.   
   
“...You wouldn’t be cute.” A snarky smile peered over, watching as his pet struggled with the cloth. “...But I suppose, you deserve some reward for not running away this time. That's progress...” He rummages through the basket for one of his own pair of slacks and haphazardly throws it without warning.   
   
Sans fumbles to catch it but once he does, rotating it like a 3D puzzle, he steps through the leggings and realises just how tall his brother has become. The legs of each pant are almost twice his height and trail behind him with each step.   
   
“...We can go shopping.” Boss chuckles. “I have to buy new furniture anyhow… might as well spoil my dove.”   
   
“You mean-!!” his voice hitched in his throat. Was it too soon to be hopeful? “Can I choose my own clothes?” Sans sputtered.  He’d love to have something heavier, warmer… with long sleeves.   
   
“Sure… why not.” Boss shrugged, this wasn’t so much of a big deal to him as it was for Sans. This was the first time in decades he’d been able to pick his own clothes!!!! To be fair…Papyrus already gave him the nicest, fitted clothing he’d ever had in his life. But he hated the dresses with a passion!!!   
   
Sans teetered in his spot, thinking of all the possibilities. What could he get? How much spending money would Pap allow him? Would he be forced to only get one item at a time? Maybe with good behavior he could earn a whole wardrobe!! What should he get first?  
Maybe a sweater. Or two. And underwear! Definitely underwear!!!   
   
Stars, what he would do for some shorts was embarrassing at this point. He hated the feel of his bare coccyx tapping against the flaps of a skirt. Socks would be nice so he didn’t have to feel the cold floors anymore... Actually, pants would be good too… Or all the above. He couldn’t decide which he wanted more! Was it pathetic to get this excited over shopping? Hell, he didn’t care~ so long as Boss stuck to his word.  
   
Interrupting his thoughts was a soft gurgle, the familiar rumblings of a hungry soul, and for once in his miserable life it wasn’t his own!    
   
“Heh… hungry?” He stared down Boss, wanting to poke fun at him… but his own soul was starting to grumble for a meal as well. “...me too.”  Their little side adventures had used up a lot of magic, Boss already had so much drained from him from being sick… and Sans- three teleports in a day must have been a new record. When he was a kid he’d be exhausted at two. He’d fall asleep anywhere and Paps had to look after him until the morning. When he woke, Pap would have made him something inedible… and Sans, not wanting to waste supplies, would try his best to eat all of it. Even if it meant he got even more sick. It really influenced Sans to cook for them more often… and prepare food in advance that his brother could just simmer on the campfire to heat up. Getting caught up in nostalgia, Sans cheerfully announced- “I’ll make you breakfast!!!”   
   
“I can get someone to cook-”  
   
“No! I want to cook for you~!” As soon as the words came out his mouth Sans recoiled at the meer joy in it. His voice was a bit _too_ happy to not be noticed. He drew back his offer immediately, layering it with his own demands so that Boss wouldn’t catch wind that Sans was actually excited to cook for his little bro again. “I’m tired of eating the same sugary sweets everyday! Let me cook something healthy! I’ll make enough for both of us.”   
   
Boss gave him a dubious look. There was an awkward pause where Sans swayed back and forth in his spot. The feeling churned in his soul; one part nervous to see if his lie would pass and two parts excited for something new.  
   
Boss was on an active quest to find a matching sock and apparently throwing fresh linens on the floor made sense to find it faster. The skeleton peered over at Sans from a capsized basket of laundry, staring at his precious pet with half lidded eyes.   
   
Genuinely interested in this sudden turn of mood, Boss wondered where this chipper attitude had come from. His pet was practically bounding up and down where he stood.   
   
It was rare to see such excitement and he was sure if the tiny skeleton had the excess magic his eyes would have been lit with stars. Red stars, Boss mused, might be a beautiful look for his dove. Who would have thought his dove could somehow be more radiant? It piqued his interest where this could go. “Very well.” Papyrus shrugged. “Try not to burn down my home again.”   
   
As soon as he heard the permission to use the kitchen Sans soul lept to his throat. “Yes! Yes!!! Thank you boss!! I’ll make something really good! Just you wait!~!”  He completely ignored the ill timed joke and with a wave of his hand his magic was already snapping the bedroom door’s lock to the right. The door swung open and his Dove took off, running down the hall.   
   
Soundlessly, the door closed back on its hinges and left a very dumbfounded Paps alone in the room.   
   
Since when had his dove had such accurate control of his magic? … well… it didn’t matter. It's not like his pet would dare try to escape again. Dove seemed … happy. Papyrus scoffed in his throat, resuming his task of searching for the sock pair- but the door opened again. He craned his head to look at a very out of breath dove, leaning on the door for support.   
   
“Where… where _(huff)_ wheres the kitchen?”  
   
Boss straight up laughed at that. The charismatic silk tone of his laugh bellowed loudly in the room and up San’s spine, sparking a glow from his magic. The small skeleton shivered. “Down the stairs, make a right and follow the hall toward some double doors.” Boss wiped a tear from his eye. “Have fun, dove.”   
   
“Y-yes..t-thank you Boss!” Sans hummed running back. He sung on the steps. When was the last time he had actually sung for himself? It felt so distant. The last time he had been on this staircase he dreaded each and every step.   
   
In a time that felt so long ago- he’d climbed these steps with the motive to kill Paps whether or not he was his brother.    
   
In a time that felt so long ago… sans was a _hostage_ here. But he didn’t feel that way anymore. This felt like a new chapter in his life, a reunion. A purpose to living.  And now he was frolicking down the steps, looking for a room in this mansion. A place that once felt like an unending labyrinth…trapping him in forever… was now a home. It was amazing what a little positivity did to his perspective.   
   
Sans hummed. He belonged here. Right here with his little brother. Pet or not… Dove or Sans… this was the only place he wanted to be. Being owned meant little when he was already right where he needed to be. A warmth passed his cheek bones.  
   
The perspective was freeing. His birdcage was gone. He pushed past the double silver doors, and stared in awe at the pristine cooking equipment. Stoves that lined the wall! center islands with fresh fruit and vegetables in their middle! A huge walk in ridge that even a king would be envious of! And yet the most surprising thing in the room sat comfortably on a small stool, glowing bright purple with a knife in one hand and an apple in the other.   
   
The smile dropped from Sans face.   
   
The air suddenly felt depressingly thick. He choked in his throat. His bones trembled in the doorway. Around him he felt the iron of cage bars returning to ensnare him. When he opened the kitchen doors, his mind began whirring a thousand miles per hour with questions after question. Unprepared and terrified as he came face to face with Grillby. 


End file.
